What was the score again?
by chibisanzo
Summary: In which no one gets cancer, no one gets killed in a jealous fit of rage, no one angsts over a pencil [well maybe. You never know what Shu might do], but they are saddled with more trivial problems, which are however, no less important. Yuki x Shu, Hiro
1. Chapter 1

**What was the score again?**

**M**for language and well, horny scenes.

I have a feeling this might come backto bite me in the ass, but yeah :)

Reviews are most appreciated.

* * *

"Get away you bastard…" 

Shuichi felt himself being jabbed fiercely in the ribs by annoyed, random fingers and took it as a cue to wrap himself around Yuki even more.

The room was freezing in the middle of winter; they only had two blankets and one fell abandoned on the floor some time during the night – what else was he supposed to do?

"Shuichi…please," Yuki half-begged, trying to gather the blankets around him as tightly as possible, away from any offending wasps of cold air.

"I'm cold," Shuichi whined.

"Get your own blanket," Yuki groaned. He curled up tighter as Shuichi wriggled some more.

The air fell silent as the both of them gave up simultaneously—Yuki was never a morning person; he left any arguments and important matters unfinished until he had enough energy to get his brain functioning normally and Shuichi knew, by heart, the clockwork of Yuki's brain.

He dug his freezing toes into the soft cottony material that was Yuki's favorite grey pajama pants and snuggled into Yuki's sweatshirt. It was too freaking cold to go bare-chested like Yuki normally did but that did not stop Shuichi from reaching under the folds of Yuki's shirt to touch bare skin.

Yuki yelped in surprise and threw the blanket –and in the midst of it, Shuichi- off the bed.

"What the…" he shrieked, followed by a string of colorful profanities that had Shuichi wincing and carefully putting on his wounded puppy look before Yuki turned to glare at him, his tousled golden hair sticking up on both ends.

"You…" he frowned and jabbed a finger forcefully in Shuichi's direction. "Don't touch me when your fingers are all frostbitten!"

"I'm cold," Shuichi wibbled, and stuck out his lower lip.

"You…Aargh.."

Yuki huffed and pushed his way out of bed, to reach for the bedroom slippers at the foot. He headed to the wardrobe and tossed Shuichi several sweatshirts and some more blankets before threatening to kick him out if he woke Yuki up again and promptly fell asleep, curled up snugly and Shuichi-proof this time.

It was another three hours before the phone alarm rang, signaling the time for Shuichi to wake up and haul his ass to the studio to record the band's latest album, yet to be titled.

Bad Luck has long surpassed best-new-rock-band status in Japan and was fast etching its name as the nation's biggest rock act, nudging Nittle Grasper off the top to claim the throne. It was a long time coming, but the band _had_ been handled by the most capable and musically influential producers and managers. Besides, Shuichi's enthusiasm was like a drug—it was infectious.

In the four years since they released their first single, Rage Beat, the band under the helm of Shuichi, the face of Bad Luck, and with the backing of their passive but neurotic producer, Sakano-san; gradually evolved their sound to a more rock edge, as compared to their techno-inspired beginnings. That decision fitfully exposed the band to the mainstream, and the media, in turn, embraced them with glee. Ever since then, there was hardly time to stop and breathe when every section of the band was demanded for and obsessed over.

Shuichi loved every second of it.

He slipped on his black heavy turncoat and knotted a brown and blue striped scarf around his neck before reaching for his similarly patterned gloves on the top drawer of the cabinet.

He padded over to the bedroom and said as loudly as he could from the doorway, "I'm going out now Yuki. Bye, Love you!" and received a grunt and an obliging wave of hand from the mountains of warm comfy sheets. He felt like an old bag sometimes from all the corny, sugary things he would say to Yuki almost on a daily basis but it could be worse- they used to be hourly.

Both Yuki and his paychecks have grown significantly larger – Shuichi was now earning a fraction more than Yuki, so Yuki could no longer raise an eyebrow and smugly close all their arguments with his "I'm the one earning money for the both of us plus you live in _my_ house so shut up" line. In spite of the bankrolls, there was never a need to pack and move in to a five bedroom, three bathroom penthouse like all the normal millionaires so they had stay put, warm and comfortable in that apartment.

The place still looked horrendously like a bachelor pad—there was hardly any food around and beer was the official drink. Even so, the details of the two of them have somehow molded and pieced together, like pieces of a puzzle. The Playstation was in front of the television, with one controller on the floor and the other on the couch. Shuichi always got all excited playing Street Fighter and the floor was a better place to run around and celebrate after he pawned Yuki. His tea mug would be in the sink in the morning, and back into the cabinet by evening when Yuki washed it. Yuki's latest SLK Mercedez convertible keys was forever on the table top, unmoved from its position the night before, where Yuki had come into the house, removed his shoes and tossed the keys there with a careless air and an exhausted sigh.

Shuichi sat on the steps of the front of their apartment to wait for Hiro. He had a car of his own—a company sponsored sleek, black, Lamborghini convertible—but years of depending on Hiro and his trusty bike never quite wore off, except for the bike. He had gone all out last year and bought for Hiro's birthday, the Ducati bike his best friend has lusted over the most part of his life when he wasn't lusting after girls or guitars. Sakano was of course, beside his mind when he found out. Why can't they be normal people and drive to work? Motorcyclists have higher accident risks, what would the insurance company think? He went on and on until Hiro threatened to run him over with the bike.

"Yo…" Hiro smiled, taking out his helmet and resting it on his hip. He rubbed his gloved hands together and blew on them. "It's cold today," he remarked.

Shuichi hopped to his feet and caught the helmet Hiro threw him.

"Yeah, the weather's getting worse," he grimaced and tucked the ends of his scarf into his coat. He climbed onto Hiro's monster of a bike and secured himself properly before Hiro took off, speeding off into the cold Tokyo morning.

In fact, it was so cold, it might as well be raining icicles instead of spewing and recycling biting, freezing wind.

The wind beat down on them mercilessly, seeping in between clothing to get at bare skin, and it was all Shuichi could do to keep from falling down the bike to get his teeth to stop making horrible, chattering noises. He clung on to Hiro tighter, fighting the possibility of somehow being pried away and falling off. With his weight, you just never know.

Their latest album was scheduled to be released in six months' time. So far, production of the album has been skidding dangerously on the line, if not for a few detours here and there. They had released two singles so far, the latest only a week ago, and the chaos that came along with the release was inevitable, with them having to perform in various music programs and oblige interviews and photoshoots, in between gaps of recording new songs for the album.

K-san was already waiting impatiently for them at the management office, tapping his AK-47 impatiently against his hip. He looked rather ridiculous, having battled the weather by wearing a bright orange beanie with a jacket that was an even brighter shade of orange. He visibly brightened when he saw the two approaching and then turned the aim of his weapon towards them.

"Ah, you are finally here," he said smoothly, laced with a thick American accent.

Hiro smiled. "Right on time," he said. He pointed to the blob on top of K's head. "Nice beanie."

Their manager beamed his pride (and put the gun away, much to Shuichi's relief) before dropping the grin and replacing it with a business-like frown, and a dangerous glint in his eye. "You guys have a tight schedule today. You have five hours of studio time—" he ignored Shuichi's horrified gasp, "—and a performance on Hey! Hey! Hey! to record at four, since Shuichi might need five tries or thirteen to get it perfect and if time permits, a photo shoot at eleven thirty because we don't ever have night shots for you guys so this might be a perfect time to do it."

He took another look at Shuichi's face which was red going on blue and said, "I got Tohma to call Yuki which means, Shuichi—" he flashed said singer a perfect smile, "—you can't use that calling card to get off early. Now boys, off to work!"

Shuichi whined and complained the rest of the way to the recording studio. K-san was always particularly mean to him, but he was obnoxiously evil today, he wailed, and promptly ignored Hiro's reasoning that K had covered all bases that day and in a rare moment of rare moments, came one up on top of Shuichi which was why he was upset and the fact that he was upset had nothing to do with work since Shuichi had turned into a workaholic lately.

"It's just his way of showing his affection, Shu," Hiro laughed, clapping Shuichi on the back and steering the both of them towards studio number eleven.

"He's out to get me," Shuichi moaned, milking Hiro's sympathy for all it was worth.

Hiro nodded, sympathizing. They pushed the door open to reveal the sounds of a maniac jamming away on his keyboards—Suguru was practicing the chords to the sounds of Rage Beat.

Raising his eyebrows slightly at such a nostalgic choice of song, Shuichi pressed the button and took a deep breath before bellowing into the microphone "HI SUGURU!" and received an ear-jarring combination of the wrong chords of fingers crashing onto the keyboards and Suguru shrieking five times too off-keyed for his vocal chords.

Shuichi beamed and Suguru gave him the finger.

It was still surreal, this experience of theirs. The band had never felt like they were superstars, they were still them, and Hiro was still a nagging red-haired bastard who showed no trace of it at the feet of his adoring fans who duly believed he was Shuichi's bodyguard and soul mate—most of it owing to the fan service act they performed a year ago at the concert hall on their tour. If only they knew, that Hiro wasn't a saint; he was very much the devil in disguise. He launched verbal wars with the singer all the time and won most of them, thus triumphantly putting all the bills of their drinking escapades on Shuichi's tab. He coaxed and persuaded with a soothing voice and a charming air, and the rest of the band were soon tricked into his very ways. Shuchi never missed the opportunity to tell him that he should become a vocalist himself.

Hiro was very much an asset to the band as everyone else. If anything, he held them together. In a world of glitter and leather and 5-door limos and room-service and groupies, he seemed to be the only level-headed person sane enough to bring anyone's head too overloaded with fame crashing onto ground. He nurtured Shuichi's writing expeditions with coffee and a few chords of his guitar and knocked him into place whenever he hit his lows, brought Sakano a new supply of aspirin every week to calm his nerves, and wrestled with Suguru on an occasional basis after practice sessions.

For the most part, Shuichi privately thought that if Hiro wasn't there, there wouldn't ever be a Bad Luck. Suguru was much too bad-tempered (he scarily bore a resemblance to Tohma in terms of sticking the knife in the gut and then smiling), K to trigger-happy and Sakano needed professional help. Shuichi, well, Shuichi had the bad habit of thinking too much with his heart and not his head the most of the time.

The time at the studio flew by and it was pretty soon time to leave for the recording. Five hours was too short to record a decent song, and in that amount of time, Bad Luck had merely managed to secure the instrumentals of Heaven, a song Shuichi wrote on whim after a wild night of sex(don't ask) and a weird-ass conversation with Hiro and booze.

He called Yuki in the limo, just because.

"What do you want?"

He pouted. Their phone conversations nearly always started that way, unless it was Yuki calling then it would be "Oi, are you busy tonight?"

He sniffed for good measure. "Just calling to said I loved you, but it's okay, I take it that you are too busy to even say hello."

He heard Yuki snort on the other side of the phone, and an even louder snort from the person beside him. He jabbed Suguru in the leg for good measure and continued.

"I suppose Tohma called you earlier?"

"Yeah, I was thinking it might be a good idea to go out to the bar tonight and see if I could get lucky. You know, it's not very often I get an off night." He could hear Yuki smirk too, and pictured him in his smooth leather chair, his legs crossed on the table and his laptop open and blinking in front of him.

"You— hey!" he protested over the phone.

"Just kidding, my little Shu. You know how I could never get enough of you," Yuki said smoothly, a little too smoothly.

"I hate you," he settled instead, scowling and sinking in deeper into the plush leather seats of the limo.

"As do I. Now, Shu, did you remember why you were calling? I am approximately forty thousand words behind my deadline which is in 26 hours time. 'She' is going to kill me. Non-negotiable apparently, and contract will be cancelled if I don't submit it in time."

"You know I earn enough for the both of us," Shuichi said sweetly, and resisted letting out his evil laughter of doom before Yuki came right over and shot him in the head.

"With your obscene expenditures, I doubt we could."

And when Shuichi made sounds of protest, Yuki continued, "You bought three shirts yesterday in awful neon pink, and they all looked the same. The only difference was that the words 'I HATE PINK' were in three different colours."

"I thought it was cute," Shuchi retorted, indignant.

"Hah! You even bought a Nintendo console, when you already have a Playstation, and to top it off, you bought a Gameboy Advanced as well."

"But they have specific games which I want to play for each!" Shuichi argued, losing horribly.

"What's the point anyway, you never win them."

"I beat you in Street Fighter!"

"Shuichi, it's because I suck at video games. But between you and the machine alone, your brain cells aren't good enough," Yuki said slowly and kindly, in the way that grandmothers would to their grandchildren who ate too much cookies and got sick.

"I could buy 5 million units of them either way; I don't see your point." He tried for a different approach.

"I was being nice," Yuki snapped. "That's just the bottom of a horribly long list of obscene things you spend on."

"You wrote a list of obscene things I spent on?" Shuichi's mouth went slack in horror.

"I like things organized."

"Well…" Shuichi pondered. "What else did I spend on?" he whispered. Maybe it was time he got a personal assistant.

"I'm putting this down now," he heard Yuki say dryly instead and tried unsuccessfully to speak over the threat before hearing the finite click over his pleas.

Yuki-1 Shuichi-0


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm exhausted," Shuichi declared, and stretched his overworked muscles before clambering all over Yuki –"Oi, get off me!"—to find a comfortable spot between his legs and stomach.

Yuki smelt of shower foam and cigarettes and the soft dewy detergent of the shirt he was wearing.

Shuichi stank of three days' work and fresh car smell. Hiro wasn't awake enough to handle his bike so Sakano had them all sent home in the company limo. The band had reduced five days of behind schedule to one day, which still wasn't a good thing either considering the amount of time left.

"Have you eaten?" Yuki asked, absently running his hands through Shuichi's hair, sifting the pink strands between his fingers. The other was busy typing sentences on the open document of the laptop. Shuichi noted with glee that Yuki was making typing errors every few letters.

"Ramen," he replied, yawning. He had been on instant ramen for three days now and if he had to eat any more noodles, he would puke. He dreamt of fresh rice, and Yuki's burnt eggs and slices of beef.

"You sleepy?" Yuki asked again, this time with a customary smirk on his face.

Shuichi grinned lazily. His eyelids were closing on him any moment now. "Yeah," he mumbled, crooking an arm around Yuki's neck and resting his head on his shoulder. Just one minute, then he would get right up.

"That's too bad, I was hoping to get laid," Yuki deadpanned, squinting slightly at the words that glared back at him. His finger moved back to the backspace button and pressed them.

"K-san specifically told me to get sleep. No sex, he said, and if I did, he would know because I would be all woozy and starry-eyed and I wouldn't be able to do anything and then we'll be behind schedule again and—" Shuichi shut up because Yuki closed his mouth with his, and he tasted of toothpaste and cigarettes, and how he missed this, and he kissed back with the same fervor; dragging his tongue across Yuki's teeth and then sucking gently on his lower lip before Yuki did the same back to him. Story forgotten, Yuki's hands encircled his head and held it close to his chest, and Shuichi could hear his heartbeat and the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed; and his hair was littered with kisses before they moved to his neck, and he let out a gasp when Yuki licked the vein that formed a bump on his neck and sucked on it.

"Still sleepy?" he heard Yuki said and he opened his eyes to smile at him because he was rather incoherent now and saw Yuki, mouth slightly open, wet and pink from kissing, looking back at him.

This was the Yuki no one else got to see.

Shuichi closed his eyes again and let Yuki carry on. He rested his chin on Yuki's hair, who was busy attacking his collarbone now, and nuzzled the back of Yuki's neck. "Are we like, going to do it here?" he mumbled, in between licking the bruise he formed on the spot where Yuki's back and neck met.

"Why, we aren't supposed to?" Yuki said, drifting under Shuichi's jacket and shirt, and exploring.

"That would be like, chair sex or something," he mumbled, trying to focus, involuntarily making noises as Yuki's hands brushed his hip bone slightly. This wouldn't do, he thought. It's not fair that only Yuki got to play.

"We did it on the floor the last time around; I figured this would be more comfortable." Yuki brought his head up and captured Shuichi's mouth again, tongues furious this time, and explored the places in his mouth.

Shuichi thought he was going to die; from horniness or from exhaustion, he didn't know yet.

He grappled at the buttons of Yuki's shirt and found his way through. He placed his hands everywhere, like rediscovering new places; the lines that formed the borders of Yuki's muscles, the collarbone that peeked out from the edges of his shirt, the taut nipples, the smooth flesh over his stomach, and was extremely pleased with himself when Yuki started breathing heavily.

"Yeah, but I figured you wouldn't want me coming all over your favorite leather chair. This is where you work."

They stuck their foreheads together, both resting and gasping for breath. Shuichi was distinctly aware of the hardness that formed from Yuki's pants he was sitting on. This wouldn't be a good thing, he thought again-- falling asleep in between sex.

"You have one more thing to add to your list of overspent things then," Yuki replied, tugging on the zipper of Shuichi's jeans.

Shuichi returned the favor, hands dawdling by the regions where Yuki's hips ended and his suede trousers began. He ignored Yuki's quiet request to move slightly because he couldn't get to dragging down Shuichi's jeans, and licked the bruises he already made earlier on the nape of Yuki's neck.

He heard Yuki say something, but stopped when the words were cut off by noises coming out from the back of his throat.

Shuichi grinned.

Then Yuki pushed Shuichi away, far enough for Shuichi to look into Yuki's eyes and see the glimmer of Yuki's golden irises, and near enough for him to possibly drown into them. He fumbled with the folds of Shuichi's jeans, and managed to drag down the material down to Shuichi's knees.

Feeling a burning shiver zoom up his spine when Yuki put a firm, warm hand around his cock, Shuichi thought hazily that he wouldn't be needing sleep for a very long time if that continued.

* * *

He overslept too, and awoke to cold pillows, empty space and his buzzing head, and the sound of a harassed Yuki speaking furiously into his cell phone in his study.

The sun was shining brightly by then, and light spilled past the poorly curtained windows and bathed the floor and carpeting with a yellow glow. Shuichi groaned, and groped blindly for his cell phone or an alarm clock or a talking parrot to tell him what time it was.

It was five minutes later before he realized his head was fine; it was his cell phone on silent mode and vibrating like a sex toy on the dresser beside the bed.

"Hello," he mumbled, smiling stupidly and slowly at the person at the other end who couldn't see.

"I said no sex!" K-san was hysterical, and in the background, he could hear the anxious jittery noises of Sakano trying to calm him down, and further still, Hiro trying to pacify Sakano by giving him some tea.

He heard loud banging noises too, and could only assume it was Suguru, releasing his temper onto the keys of his beloved keyboard.

"I didn't!" Shuichi said automatically, alert and wide-eyed now, and cursing silently under his breath. Yuki wouldn't be the only one to feel harassed by the time he put down the phone.

"It's three in the afternoon. You were supposed to be at the studio by eleven!"

"Sorry," he said, whining a little. He hadn't had sleep in 72 hours, and had explosive energy-depleting sex the night before; couldn't anybody cut him some slack?

"I'll bring you Pocky if you forgive me," he tried hopefully. He had enough reserves for a whole country in his refrigerator plus some extra sugar might help calm K's nerves and hopefully, not shoot him in the end when he turned up for work.

Half-listening to the rants on the phone, Shuichi stepped gingerly off the bed and winced at the muscle aches and pains that was the price of the pleasure. He walked off in the direction of Yuki's very verbal curses –-"What the fuck is wrong with you? It wouldn't kill for you to extend the deadline by a week!"—and leaned on the doorway, glaring daggers into Yuki's back.

Yuki ignored him.

"I'm really really really really sorry," he apologized profusely to a biting K, and made empty promises about how he completed the next song in his dream, and he would have all the lyrics ready by midnight. He tapped hard on Yuki's back and made puppy eyes at the man who glared back at him, and littering the ears of his poor editor with very mean words.

'Why didn't you wake me up?' he mouthed furiously to Yuki who had turned around and finally noticed him, while smiling into his phone at the same time.

'You looked dead. I wanted to wait just to make sure,' Yuki mouthed back, before telling said editor that he didn't give a fuck about book signing scheduled for Monday; it could be postponed to the following Monday. Fangirls can, and will wait.

'K-san wants my ass!' he yelled silently and assured K he had all the attention he wanted and Yuki was away on holiday in Bangkok, and he wouldn't be home anytime soon.

"I'll be there, right away. After I brush my teeth and get my lunch. Maybe Yu- er… there are leftovers in the fridge," Shuichi reassured K, sticking out a tongue at Yuki who yelled back just as silently, 'And she wants mine!'

'She can't have it!' he retorted. Yuki's editor was a nice woman and all,--after all she brought him marshmallows every time she came over to pick up Yuki's works—but she also came with a predatory look on her face and an affinity to venture into private areas- Shuichi had caught her 'accidentally' stepping into the master bedroom, more often than not.

There were sounds of K throwing a fit and the phone and Shuichi dreaded to think of the outcome of the innocent people who were in the same room with him and the gun.

He heard a loud thud on the other line. K threw his phone onto the carpet.

"Hello?" said a different voice on the phone.

"Hiro!" Shuichi greeted happily. Yuki who was looking bored and staring out the window, whipped around and raised an eyebrow at Shuichi. He frowned, and then glared at Shuichi with a higher degree of iciness than Shuichi thought possible.

Hiro sounded haggard, and slightly pissed. "The Scooby Gang is getting on my nerves. I can't take the three of them all by myself. What'd you do? Had marathon sex?"

Shuichi coughed loudly at said statement. He scowled in the direction of Yuki, and lied, "No, of course not" at the same time which Hiro continued, "—because I came over this morning and Yuki said you had marathon sex."

"Oh my god," Shuichi said, horrified.

"I know, right?" Hiro said, dryly.

He said in a horrified whisper, "Talk to you later, bye," and Yuki snapped, "One week, bye!" and the both of them snapped their phones shut and Shuichi screamed, "Oh my god, you just told Hiro we had marathon sex!" to which Yuki smirked and asked, "Hungry?"

Shuichi nodded, miserable.

Yuki-2. Shuichi-0.

* * *

"You are just doing this to make her miserable," he said, as Yuki made his way into the kitchen, lighting up a cigarette as he did.

He noticed, with a quenched smile, that there was already sashimi laid out nicely on plates, on top of half-melted ice cubes.

"Clever observation," Yuki said dryly. He scooped up rice into an empty bowl and walked over to the table. "Here," he said gruffly, and pulled out a chair and sat down opposite of Shuichi.

Shuichi considered thanking Yuki for letting him sleep until he felt alive enough to wake up. Yuki hated making obvious gestures, but his subtle ones were even more transparent, which made it hilarious. He also considered reaching over to kiss him right there and then, but his hands reached for the bowl instead.

"I guess I have to drive to the studio," he mumbled, in between gulps of rice and making hopeful eyes at Yuki. He didn't trust the car. Nor did he trust Hiro, after being in the same room with three maniacs for four hours straight. His best friend might just betray him and leave him on the highway to die.

Yuki ignored it, and blew a plume of smoke in his direction instead. "They should put out an announcement."

Shuichi glared.

Yuki held out his hands and shaped them in the air with deliberate, dramatic gestures. "Shuichi Shindou, lead singer of Bad Luck is driving into work today. Everybody, clear the streets! Unless you have a death wish, then follow the route from their apartment!"

"Or," Shuichi said brightly and waved the chopsticks in the general direction that is Yuki, "you could drive me."

"Fat chance, brat."

* * *

They didn't say anything in the car, except in the beginning, when Shuichi complained that for such a nice car, it certainly wasn't very comfortable; to Yuki's retorts that he wasn't planning on getting a minivan anytime soon so Shuichi can stuff it, and fucking deal with the smooth adjustable leather seats and chrome dashboard, and the extra cup holders to put his hideous excuse of water tumbler in.

He fell asleep again, in the passenger seat, while listening to Yuki's smooth driving, and Yuki's breaths while the city passed them in a blur. He thought for a moment to himself, that he could write a song about that, about being in Yuki's car and Yuki driving with no conversation, only that it wasn't silent— except that he didn't know what it was called. Soon he was dreaming, of Hiro laughing, and Yuki smoking three cigarettes in one go, and a giant pink bear chasing them all the way back to Yuki's apartment.

_A/N: Feedback would be most appreciated. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**

* * *

**

There were lines showing on Hiro's face when he turned up at the studio, with Yuki close behind. He had asked Yuki not to come down though he hadn't listened; his best friend and Yuki had had almost fights every time they met each other, strangely enough, Hiro winning more verbal wars than Yuki.

Some of it went away, and his features softened slightly when he saw Shuichi looking apologetically at him. "Sorry," he said anyway, obligated.

Hiro shook his head slightly, leaving the matter closed and done with. He raised an eyebrow though, when he saw Yuki smirking right back at him from behind Shuichi.

"Come to see your boyfriend croon love songs?" he asked dryly, smiling. His teeth was gritted.

Shuichi sighed inwardly.

Yuki responded by wrapping both his arms around Shuichi, and dropped little kisses on the top of his head. He flushed, then squirmed, trying to get out of his grasp. "Yeah," Yuki said, flashing a satisfied grin. "How did you know?"

Hiro rolled his eyes, then reached out a hand towards Shuichi. "C'mon, dumbass," he said. "K is going to kill you if you don't get in there soon. Fujisaki was about to leave when you came. He said he wasn't going to wait for you but I stopped him."

That reminded him. He looked around, and the studio was empty save for two technicians, Hiro, Fujisaki in the recording room, and a pile of guitars and drum sets. No sign of a trigger-happy K anywhere. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, he shook off Yuki's hands and took Hiro's. "Sorry for being late," he said again. He turned back, caught Yuki's roll of his eyes and laughed. "I'll call you later," he promised and pushed open the door that lead to a menacing-looking Fujisaki.

Yuki nodded slightly, and walked off with one hand in his pocket, and the other handling a cigarette. Shuichi noticed that he didn't turn left, where they had come from, but instead, he walked off into the right hallway, presumably to pay a visit to Tohma.

When the silhouette of Yuki couldn't be seen any longer, Shuichi found himself cuffed on the head, and fighting for breath in the headlock Hiro was holding him in. "I'm going to kill you once I'm done," Hiro said, before releasing him. There was a light in his tired eyes, though his mouth was drawn down into a frown.

Shuichi pouted. "I'm sure you could have handled them."

His best friend made several incoherent noises and pulled at his hair. He then rambled on and on a bout how K would shoot at anything that _moved_ and how Sakano made hyperventilating noises every 5 minutes so Hiro had to get the first aid team on stand-by, and how Fujisaki kept describing the ways he would torture Shuichi. "Usually I can't handle the four of you and _you're _the loudest of them all," Hiro mock-raged, poking Shuichi in the shoulder. "But with you gone, it's even worse!"

"Aww, I love you too," he said happily, and elbowed Hiro. Hiro rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Honestly, Shuichi…"

Fujisaki wasn't having any small talk. He walked out, and pushed a crumpled sheet of paper into Shuichi's hands. "The score," he said curtly and pointed towards the blackened notes, all dotting the lines in a pattern.

"I'll modify them, to suit the final composition and once you are done with the lyrics."

Shuichi gulped.

The lyrics.

He reached to smoothen out the wrinkles in the paper so he could read the notes before forming an emergency plan to come up with verses to the songs he had promised would be done before the day ended, when Hiro snatched the piece of paper right out of his hands.

"I need it," he said to a scowling Fujisaki. "I am not done with my guitar licks."

The other boy shrugged, and threw up his hands in the air. "Suit yourselves, the both of you. I'm done for the day."

"Thanks," Shuichi breathed a sigh of relief when Fujisaki's head went bobbing out the door, presumably also, to pay a visit to Tohma. He noticed, irritably, that he had been spending far too much time with the head producer lately, and some of Tohma's arrogance and threatening characteristic had rubbed off on him. He had mellowed down a little bit, and learned not to be so high strung over the years, especially when it came to Shuichi, but Tohma apparently decided the band needed reigning in. And so, Fujisaki was called in ever so often to have tea with his dear uncle; and returned to the recording studio more often that not a tyrant.

"Here," Hiro said, and pressed into Shuichi's palms, two sheets of white paper, and several 2B pencils. He stopped short, and decided that there was something he had forgotten. Rummaging in his left pocket, he fished out several leftover candy wrappers, a girl's photograph (which Shuichi tried unsuccessfully to snatch) and some loose change before dropping a smaller scrap of paper into Shuichi's hands.

"For inspiration," Hiro grinned, his eyes crinkling.

He stared at the handwriting on the piece of paper.

_Good luck with your upcoming album! _

_p/s: Tohma is a meanie. Tatsuha keeps calling._

_Ryuichi._

"Hirooo," he breathed in awe before looking up at his best friend, all starry-eyed. Then he stopped. As far as he knew, Ryuichi was in the states for another unplanned holiday. He was gone since June, a few months ago.

Hiro seemed to know his thoughts. "Ryuichi said to give it to you when you need it. I figured, now is a better time than any," Hiro shrugged.

He didn't need to say anything back. He never had to. He simply gripped the papers in his hands and headed for the low coffee table by the corner of the room, partially hidden by the enormous equipment framing the walls and blocking the pathways. Hiro reached for his acoustic guitar and sat down with Shuichi at the couch.

There was nothing to be heard except the sounds of Hiro strumming the guitar and the scratch of the pencil on paper. Occasionally, Hiro would like a sound he made so he played it over and over and over again, until he was fairly satisfied.

They worked till it was night, though Shuichi hadn't noticed. He never carried a watch with him, and the studio came without windows. It was only when Hiro yawned hugely, and rubbed his left shoulder where the guitar strap bit into the flesh, that he realized they had been there quite a long while. He looked down at his sheet of paper; a mess collection of scribbles and rhymes, until he could no longer see the white from the black. Still, it wasn't finished.

He looked up at his best friend, who was now taking a cigarette break. The room was dark, save for a lone light over the top of their heads, and the spot of red from his lighted stick.

"Don't you have to meet Ayaka? Yuki told me she was in town." Shuichi asked, leaning back on the sofa. His bright green shorts made funny sounds against the leather, shutting out the quiet of the room.

"…Yeah, I do," Hiro replied after a long pause, and an extra drag.

Shuichi raised an eyebrow.

Hiro laughed, lifting the guitar strap over his shoulder and resting the axe in its case. He shut it with a snap, and stabbed the cigarette in the ash tray. "I'll be going then. Sure you'll be okay? Sakano-san will stop by to check later."

Shuichi nodded, rolling his eyes like he was eight. "I won't get kidnapped, I won't get locked in, and I won't be lonely," he chanted, pulling a face at Hiro's old man expression.

"Yup, you sure are old enough to take care of yourself," Hiro deadpanned, and received a ball of paper in the face before Shuichi gasped, and leapt from the couch to retrieve it again. He smoothed it with shaking fingers, and hoped desperately his carbon lyrics didn't suddenly melt or smudge from the violent act.

Hiro smacked a hand to his forehead and wondered aloud if he would ever stop worrying over Shuichi, to Shuichi's heated remarks that he should get going or Ayaka would get mad, and then Tatsuha will find out, and Yuki will know from Tatsuha, and due to Yuki's family pressure, Shuichi would be obligated to give Hiro a long lecture on how to treat the ladies right.

Hiro waved a tired hand, resigned, and defeated, and yelled out one more time that Shuichi had better make sure he turned off the Mac in the room, and took home his lyric sheet, and Fujisaki's score, and that he would call him in an hour to remind him again before disappearing from the room, all bright and fuzzy at the edges because the fluorescent lights outside were so strong.

* * *

Yuki was waiting for him at home, though rather discreetly (he pretended he was working on his novel at his study, though Shuichi could see, from where he stood a few feet away, that all that was typed on the open document was gibberish and had funny words like 'pink' and 'annoying fuzzball'). He had a hand around a glass of wine, and he looked up instantly, when Shuichi opened the door and beamed and said "I'm back Yuki!" quite loudly.

"You're noisy," he replied, his traditional way of saying welcome back.

He shrugged off his backpack, and dropped it with a thud on the floor, and padded all the way to Yuki's chair, to give him a kiss on the forehead. Somehow though, along the way, it led to mussed hair, and shared tongues, and moments of catching breath.

Yuki stopped just as Shuichi suppressed a throated groan, and smirked. He pushed back his chair, and shrugged Shuichi off, and headed out the study. "No sex, right, Shu-chan?" Yuki asked smoothly, and ignored Shuichi's cry of disbelief.

"That's not fair, Yuki. You started it first," Shuichi whined all the way to the kitchen, trudging in Yuki's shadow.

Yuki didn't answer but pulled out a bowl, and two packets, one had a ball of ramen, and the other hot soup, from the counter. Shuichi's eyes glittered at the sight, and his mouth watered. Food. He hadn't had any since the afternoon when he had sashimi with Yuki. He suppressed the urge to laugh manically. At this rate, Yuki could be qualified to be a housewife!

Yuki mumbled something along the lines of having dinner with Mika-san, and they had ramen (though Shuichi knew very well that Mika-san would _never_ eat ramen, because she wanted to watch her figure) so he decided to buy back dinner for Shuichi too, which would otherwise be instant noodles.

There was two calls during dinner; one from Yuki's editor, who told him to hurry the fuck up, and that she would be stopping by a few days from now to pick up his latest work, at which Yuki told her in very polite words to fuck off, and the other from Hiro, who wanted to know whether Shuichi remembered to take home his lyrics.

Shuichi gasped in horror, and took the appropriate steps to freak out, and Hiro said "I knew it!" and said with a triumphant tone, that he had left the sheets of paper in the mailbox.

At this point, Yuki lighted another cigarette and observed with condescending tones that Hiro should learn to stop babying Shuichi, because he was never going to grow up to become a proper adult like everyone else.

Shuichi grinned, and made kissy faces at Yuki and he relented, and they forgot about the sheets of paper lying in the mailbox, and had sex on the kitchen table top.

K-san would be going ballistic when he finds out.

* * *

**A/N:** LMAO. The thought of Yuki being a housewife… :facepalms: 


	4. Chapter 4

Shuichi hated the way Yuki's editor fawned over him. He loathed the way she always crashed their morning-afters, descending upon the apartment like an unforeseen natural disaster, and upsetting the peace that reigned over the place. She wasn't fan-girly per-se, but she was so damn perky, and so briskly efficient in that smart business woman way that he could hardly stand it. Everytime he saw her, she was always gushing, always smiling, and always sliding over to where Yuki was seated or stood, and touching him in very inappropriate places. Shuichi privately thought that Yuki's inner elbows, and the specific spot where the nape of his neck met his collarbone should be limited to his fingers only; or wherever his body parts pleased.

He glared at her now, straightening Yuki's collar for him, and patting his chest in an affectionate manner, and saying with a shake of her head that writers do not know how to take care of themselves.

Yuki can take care of himself all right. He liked his collar that way; it made him look sexier. The rumpled, out of bed look suited Yuki very, very well.

"Ah, Yuki-san… You can't do this to me, you know. You should finish your work faster. I am the one who will have to answer to the publisher," she cooed, pouting slightly at him in a way that Shuichi thought was totally unacceptable. Even _he _didn't pout like that.

Yuki lighted his first cigarette stick of the day, and stared at her blearily from the kitchen counter. "You have what you want now, don't you?" he asked, stumbling slightly over his words. When Mizuki-san nodded, Yuki raised an eyebrow. "So what are you complaining about?"

There was a hopeful glint in her eye when she said that it had better not ever happen again, though they both knew, that it was all for naught; and Yuki had stabbed his cigarette into the nearest empty cup he could find(Shuichi's, as a matter of fact), and told her shortly that he was tired because he just fucked Shuichi last night and he needed more sleep.

At that point, Shuichi didn't know who he loathed more. But he reminded himself, time and time again, that Yuki was a sensitive person inside, and he didn't know what he was saying.

But sadly, Shuichi also thought, that this editor person was a very smart woman. Because, she always bought the extra special limited-edition pocky for Shuichi every time she came over.

So he forgave her for her indecency, every time, only to whine to Yuki after wards, while she was safely gone, until her next visit, presumably two months away. Yuki had a crazy workload too.

"I think you should fire her, and hire another person," Shuichi said decisively, waving his lyric sheet in front of a bored Yuki. He was watching television, only he wasn't watching it, because he didn't appear to mind Shuichi blocking his view.

"C'mon now, Shuichi. You don't see her as a threat do you?" Yuki rubbed his elbow and yawned. Shuichi could smell his smirk a million miles away; only he couldn't see it.

"Well, she was being all touchy." He took a step forward, and waved his lyric sheet again when Yuki didn't budge. "Again," he said pointedly.

Yuki glared at him from the couch. Granted, he was testing waters because he couldn't be expecting Yuki to come up with a proper argument this early in the morning, but he was _that _irritated.

"You seem to do a complete one-eighty once she gives you all that pocky though," Yuki muttered bitterly, amidst another yawn. He reached for a cushion, and buried his face in it, and shifted around, until he was completely in line, and deeply sunk in the couch. Shuichi heard a faint "Off the tv while you're at it. It's annoying" coming from the cushions.

He huffed, indignant. "It's a tactic of hers I tell you. A classic move! To get to you, she's getting to me first!"

Yuki didn't answer. He was already fast asleep. Pouting slightly, Shuichi stepped forward again until his knees were bumping with the leather, and one of Yuki's carelessly thrown hands. Shuichi dared himself, and ruffled Yuki's hair. "Ne, Yukiii…"

He got a hand in his face, as Yuki waved off anything he could reach, all the while still face-buried in the cushions. "Fuck off, you're annoying."

"But this is important!"

"…Go away."

"Yuki, you're cheating on me aren't—" He did not manage to finish his sentence, before his vision suddenly toppled, and black was suddenly all he could see, and he got a mouthful of cushion. Leather tasted horrible. He pushed off the cushion only to see Yuki's murderous face looming above him.

"Um." He gulped.

"First of all," Yuki barked, now very agitated. Shuichi couldn't help being fascinated by his neck though. And his eyes. He almost almost reached forward to touch the skin, before he realized Yuki was ranting. "—I don't own the freaking company so I can't hire or fire anyone I choose, and thirdly, I like my women tall, have beautiful long wavy hair, and come with big enough breasts. She happens to be short, and that cancels out all the three requirements."

Shuichi coughed, disgusted. "That's like dating your sister," he said immediately, before suddenly realizing what Yuki was saying. "Hey!" he cried, insulted.

Yuki made a face, which looked like he was both about to growl and roll his eyes at the same time, before he stopped and blinked. "Oh yeah," he said, after a moment's pause, still hovering above Shuichi. "Won't be here this weekend."

Shuichi's face fell at the exact moment Yuki fell out of the couch, in one elegant swoop. He had an off day this coming Saturday, to be exact, and had been dropping insane hints for Yuki that a good wholesome dinner would be good. It was exactly five months and four days since they last had a proper meal somewhere at a good restaurant. Obviously Yuki never got the hint, or completely disregarded it if he did.

"Meeting my old man," Yuki grunted, now splayed out on the floor, back against the couch. He rummaged around for another stick. Yuki's dad and Yuki always spelt out one thing: cigarettes, tempers flying, and there might be alcohol involved.

"What for?" He could see the tips of Yuki's ears peeking out from the blond strands of hair covering his head. There was a curling strand of smoke rising out, and looking like it came from his head.

"Some stuff," Yuki grunted.

"I have that day off," Shuichi said tentatively, looking hopefully at Yuki. He did not sink so low yet as to ask directly, 'Can I go?" Well, he did, once upon a time. But tactics like these failed against the great Yuki-sama.

"Good. You can use it to clean the pig sty we live in."

Sometimes, Shuichi wondered whether he was being deliberately stupid with Yuki, or Yuki was purposely ignorant with him. They seemed to test each other's limits to the fullest until one of them broke, or gave in.

"Ah, you're mean, Yuki." He pouted a little, more for Yuki's benefit than himself.

For all their years and years of being together, and not being together, Shuichi had learned inside out, when to pry and when not to. The only difference being; he couldn't help wanting to find out all the same. Part of the problem that came with Yuki was that he gave vague answers like these and expected to not be interrogated. They have had their fair share of arguments regarding the matter; and always, it led to Yuki burying his secrets deeper and putting up a jerk front, and Shuichi ended up hurt and whiny, again.

But still, however much Yuki could use the excuse that he was a natural born asshole, and Shuichi had to live with it or get out, didn't he have enough substance with Yuki together, to warrant the trust that he could know what was going on with Yuki's family? He didn't anticipate the idea of being a kept princess; locked behind closed doors, when the parents came to visit.

He didn't pry this time, but he didn't stop thinking about it even after he got to the studio for work. Hiro was wondering aloud on his bike that Shuichi was being unusually quiet that morning, but it flew past his ears like the wind that whistled past them, as they sped towards the studio. Then again, Hiro was unusually quiet too in the studio, and the remaining members of the Scooby Gang were shooting funny looks at each other when they weren't noticing.

"Ah, sure," Shuichi said absent-mindedly when Fujisaki asked sarcastically whether he could rap them both on the head with one of the drum sticks lying around in the studio.

He gave up, and true to his dramatic fashion, threw a bunch of papers in the air, and yelled, jerking both Hiro and Shuichi to their senses, "I can't take this anymore!" He stalked off the room in a huff, leaving a bewildered Hiro to ask a furious K what the hell was his problem anyway.

"That is for me to ask you," K snarled, raising a perfect eyebrow.

"Eh…nothing," Hiro grinned rather sheepishly. "Just lack of sleep, that's all."

Shuichi stared at Hiro, having just realized his best friend was also in a bit of a warp. Probably something to do with Ayaka, he was sure. As far as he knew, and as far as what Hiro had allowed him to read from all those snoopy gossip columns from the tabloids, Hiro and Ayaka were 'as stable as ever' and 'bound for marriage soon.' Only Hiro chortled and nearly fell of his chair laughing when Shuichi read that marriage bit aloud.

"Yeah, right," he had said. "The day Ayaka's father allows me to marry her, pigs will fly, and I will chop off my hair."

Ayaka's family, from what Shuichi had gathered from stories Yuki told him sometimes, were about as traditional as Yuki's own. Shuichi thought it probably meant that they disapproved of lifestyles such as theirs, and held extremely fast to values deemed ancient by today's standards. He thought too, that it wouldn't be a problem anyway, because Ayaka was a more steadfast woman than that, and if she wanted to marry Hiro; her dad wouldn't be able to stop her.

Yuki didn't call about dinner, so Shuichi stubbornly refused to call either, and hauled Hiro out for a drink instead. Let Yuki make sweet love to his dumbass laptop, he thought spitefully, as they walked leisurely to the gyuudon shop nearby.

"Do you have to go out with Ayaka tonight?" he pried gently, as they walked along the road. His pink sneakers scuffled along the tarred road and made weird squeaking noises. He was going to have to talk to wardrobe one of these days.

"Nah, she's gone back home," Hiro replied quite easily, turning his head to look at Shuichi. "Don't you have to spend time with Yuki-sama?" he asked sardonically, a grin peering out from the edges of his mouth.

Shuichi scowled.

Hiro laughed. "What is it now, Shuichi?" He clapped one hand around his shoulder, and ruffled his hair, while Shuichi squirmed, and flailed.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be prying, you asshole!" he managed between fistfuls of hair and Hiro's hands.

They walked into the store to an old man's ringing "IRRASHAIMASSE!", still arguing over whose problems were worth knowing first, and arms grabbing at every available spot on each other's faces. In the end, Hiro had the better advantage because he was taller, and manage to hold Shuichi at arm's length while walking forcefully to the very back where the man was cooking at the counter.

"Three bowls, ossan," Hiro stuck up three fingers at the man hovering over a pot. He nodded and hesitated for a little while before saying,

"Hey, you guys look familiar."

Shuichi grinned. "That's because we've been here twice. Your gyuudon is the best!"

"Oh." He smiled, and returned to his cooking.

Another lady served them sake, and brought two more bottles because Hiro asked for them, and soon Shuichi was half drunk and a triumphant Hiro was squeezing out all the information he wanted to hear.

"So you see," Shuichi moaned, splayed out on the counter, his head next to the sake bottle. "He doesn't tell me anything! What is so hard about telling me what is up with him and his dad?"

He didn't see Hiro roll his eyes, but he could imagine it in his drunken haze. "Is this the first time you met Yuki-san, Shuichi?" Hiro asked very politely, laced with very thick sarcastic tones.

"But we've been together for four years, and still nothing has changed…" Shuichi garbled, and went on about how he was worried that the album production is not going as smoothly as he had hoped it would be, and how hard it was to maintain the balance between home and work, and how Yuki wasn't helping by being a jerk. "… what if he's not going to meet his dad, but for some other purpose?" He jerked up, and grabbed Hiro by his collar. "Maybe it's another woman!"

Hiro snorted. "Somehow, I don't think that is likely." He pried Shuichi's fingers apart gently, and took away the sake bottle. "You've never been tolerant of alcohol," he said laughing, and put it safely beyond the reach of the singer's hands.

"We're never going to be able to finish this album in time," Shuichi groaned, resting his forehead against the cool counter-top. He could see his own shadow on the table from where he was. And from the edges of his vision, were Hiro's black leather pants, and his bright blue shoes, sticking out from underneath his seat.

"You're doing fine," Hiro insisted. His voice sounded far away, and Shuichi had to blink to focus.

"Lyrics take a while to write. And you've done well, so far. The songs are great, from what we have listened to. You just need to bring it together, that's all. Yuki probably doesn't want you to worry with whatever he's got on his hands now, and that's probably why he's not telling you things."

"Really?" Shuichi peered up blearily at his best friend. He rested his head on his arms, and stared at Hiro smiling gently at him.

"Yeah. He's always told you important stuff right? Maybe not at times when you wanted him to, but he always told them, eventually, at his own pace."

He supposed Hiro was right. Hiro was always right, especially at times when he didn't want him to.

"And whadda bout you?" Shuichi pouted. "I've told you mine, now tell me yours."

"I got upset because I met two girls today, who wanted your autograph and Suguru's, but not mine. That sucks; I've always been the hot one of the band." Hiro stuck out his lower lip for a whole two seconds, before grinning at his friend.

"Heh, I've always been the hot one," Shuichi croaked, and stuck out a tongue in defiance.

* * *

They got home quite safely with Shuichi drooling on Hiro's shirt all the way in the cab. He didn't remember a single thing, except for one random moment when he jerked his eyes open, and laughed out loud in the car. He was only awake when Hiro shook him gently awake, and told him that they were nearly home, just a few floors away.

Hiro tapped in the code to open the gates to Shuichi's apartment, and they stumbled in, Shuichi muttering murderous thoughts under his breath one moment, and happily sparkly things the next. He leaned heavily against Hiro's shoulder in the elevator, and closed his eyes. He heard Hiro say snippily, "Your breath smells awful, don't do that!" but he smiled, and then he felt Hiro put a hand on his head and drew him closer.

He was in la-la land after that, and only random flashes popped in his head at the times when he jerked in and out of consciousness. He remembered arguing with Hiro all the way to the doorstep but he forgot what they were arguing about. He only remembered Hiro agree soothingly to everything he was saying with a "Yes, yes…" and he had only gotten more worked up. He remembered gushing Yuki's name when the writer pulled open the door, with a bitchy look on his face. He remembered Yuki's smooth hands as he carried Shuichi inside, and how he had clung onto Yuki, his face nestled against his chest. Then, he had remembered another pair of shoes by the hallway, that wasn't quite his and Yuki's, but after that, he faded into blissful darkness, when Yuki tucked him gently into bed, and he had felt the warm, toasty sheets underneath him.

* * *

**A/N**: I realize this might be perceived to be not so quite canon, maybe even bordering on AU, but take it for what you want, you know? I don't really mind. Oh, and I am really enjoying myself here. But enjoying it alone isn't fun, so tell me if you liked it, won't you? 


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later and Shuichi wanted to throw his Steadler HB pencils against the wall and burn his lyric sheets until they were nothing more than fine ash. Two days! And all he had written was a song about longing, a crack-induced song about pepperoni, and one song weaved together with random thoughts and phrases. He couldn't even call that a song, much less a badly constructed haiku. K kept stalking him, even while he was at home, and he was home for all of ten hours during those two days. He was beginning to feel sapped, and drained of all the passion and determination that was filled to the brim when he first started on that album.

He knew he had to step up; the pressure was mounting on the band, and Shuichi had a responsibility, not only on himself but on his other band members too. He knew just how seriously Fujisaki took his work, and produced results enough to prove it, and he knew just how much Hiro was struggling, and he was struggling for Shuichi as well.

But. He. Simply. Could. Not. Concentrate.

For all the talent and articulate poetry that only Yuki could posses, he was of no help at all. He'd gone to him twice, once when he was home after a nineteen hour workday, and once more thirty minutes ago, when he had called home. The former, Yuki had cut him off and gave classic Yuki answers. Rare nowadays, but not uncommon whenever Yuki was in a bad mood, or irritated enough to demand Shuichi be gone from his presence.

He had brushed Shuichi off with his "Don't bother me" and "I'm busy right now. Ask me later" snides. When he called, Yuki all but grunted and asked him to write something about sunshine, and ice cream. 'That should keep the fans happy,' he had snapped, and cut off the connection.

With Yuki out of touch, and Hiro preoccupied with his own brooding problems which he refused to share, Shuichi was all but alone.

He was willing to bet that Mika-san was at home with Yuki at that very moment too; she had been there for the past two days, conferring with him on something so important that even Shuichi had been left out of the loop.

Days earlier, when Shuichi had woken up with a pounding hangover, and in the midst of gathering his senses, he remembered the shoes in the doorway, registered the cold empty space in the bed next to him, took in the fact that it was four in the morning, and ran out of bed, shivering into the hallway to find Yuki.

He managed to find himself just in time to see Yuki exploding into Mika-san's nonchalant face. Apparently, she was used to his outbursts one too many times to be offended. "I am not pushing my responsibilities onto him," he had barked, and paced the living room. Shuichi had tried to blend into the wall, only that his bright red shirt and the bleached white wall were too starkly contrasted to be concealing.

"But if you don't do it, Eiri, who do you think will? Me? I can't carry the family name. Of course Tatsuha will do it. What else are you doing but shirking your responsibilities?" Mika-san shot back at him, not in the least bit concerned about her brother's unconcealed rage.

The Uesugi clan breeded a bunch of stubborn hard-heads and it was a wonder to Shuichi how the three siblings could have survived this long without killing one another so far. Maybe they had a fourth dead sibling. He should ask, if the chance arose.

"I'm not asking him—" Yuki forced a sigh, quelling the rage that was just bubbling under the surface. Shuichi knew the gaze. His eyes hardened, then softened again when he sighed. "Then are you saying I have to do it Mika? Because you damned well know that I won't."

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it, Eiri." Shuichi saw her cross her arms, and glower at her brother.

"He can get out of this fucking mess by himself. No one is asking him to take up the cause. I managed to do it, why not him?"

"Oh?" he heard the challenge in her voice. "How? By running away?"

Yuki flinched, and Shuichi saw the bitterness in his eyes when he stared at her, and not saying a word.

There was another audible sigh, and then she spoke. "That was uncalled for. But Eiri, he is our brother, and he is burdened with this responsibility that no one else wants. Not you, and not me. You have to help him get out of this."

Shuichi's head was pounding badly by now, and he could feel the damp made between his palms and the wall. It would be a bad time to saunter in and ask casually what the hell they were talking about, but on the other hand, he didn't fancy weaseling it out of a sulking Yuki later. He would have to explain how he overheard them talking too; and Yuki wouldn't be happy. But the very second he was about to pad out very casually to the kitchen to grab an Advil, Yuki said in low, serious tones,

"Don't you try persuading me through Shuichi either, Mika. I'm warning you. If he knows about this, you know what I'm capable of."

He stopped several paces short of making himself known to the both of them and felt the pounding increase in his heart, as well as his head.

He had staggered all the way to the bedroom next, careful not to make a single sound. But he'd stumbled at the last minute, when the room began to spin in his vision. Thankfully, Yuki was too preoccupied patronizing his elder sister to notice him cursing slightly too loud, and holding on to the door handle to keep him from falling. He made it to bed without another mishap. There, in the darkness, was where his curiosity heightened as his imagination took over.

What in the world were they talking about? And what was so important about not letting him know about it? Did it have anything to do with Yuki going back to his hometown for the weekend?

* * *

He wanted to talk it through with Hiro, but K wasn't letting him do anything the next day other than write lyrics.

"I'm warning you Shuichi," K said darkly. Shuichi could just about see one gold eyebrow over the top of his shades. "Tohma is getting on my nerves. He wants results. With all the media hype surrounding this album, if we have to postpone the release, it wouldn't look good."

"I know," Shuichi replied wearily. He gave up trying to solicit Hiro into listening to him and asked for the scores long completed by both his bandmates to start working on the lyrics.

Now, six hours later, Shuichi still had nonsense staring up at him from white paper.

Hiro was irritable that day. Usually, he listened compliantly to Shuichi's various whines and rants but he was in a mood for none of that sort.

"Hirrrrooooo," he whined and stuck out his lower lip. His best friend was right at the end of the other side of the room, seated on the floor and fiddling with the guitar on his lap.

"Shuichi," Hiro heaved a sigh and looked up. "Just get to the job and finish it."

"It's all rubbish…" he cried, still looking at Hiro, hoping for a kinder reaction than what he had gotten the whole day.

"Shuichi, we'll be in trouble if you don't get your butt in gear and finish it," Hiro admonished, and ignored the pleading glance Shuichi threw him.

Shuichi was thrown off. Hiro was supposed to be supporting him, not take the side of the dark ones. K and Fujisaki held the cane, but Sakano and Hiro were supposed to be the ones who fed him cake and kept him happy. It was written in the books!

"Hiro, you're mean," he said darkly, and refused to look at him any longer, but turned his attention back to his lyric sheets instead.

There was another sigh( Shuichi could hear the guilt in it) in the silence that followed, and Shuichi grinned, shielded by his hair so Hiro couldn't see. Bits of pink stared at him from the sheet of paper. "Sorry, Shuichi. I am a bit tired that's all."

"I don't bite people's heads off when I'm tired," Shuichi responded, chewing his lip as he thought of a word that would rhyme with 'bliss'.

Diss. Gist. Tease. Breeze. Cheese?

Damn it. It wasn't working out.

"Yes, but you whine until my ears fall off when you're tired, my beloved singer." There was a teasing tone, but otherwise overridden by a grudging one.

"I promise not to if you keep me company tonight," Shuichi said hopefully, but his face fell when Hiro's maintained its stoic poise. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn't giving any leeway at all when Shuichi kept pressing him for answers. He was about to ask again, '_Hiro, are you okay?' _ but the prospect of being rebutted yet again made him bite his tongue and suppress the urge of lunging from his chair and shake Hiro very hard by his shoulders.

"Don't you have to spend time with Yuki?" he asked carefully, diverting the question into something else. He replayed the bit of chord again. It didn't sound right, so he fiddled with the tuning of the guitar.

"I just might," Shuichi said shortly, a bit more harshly then he intended. He couldn't. At the rate he was going, he had to finish up the work in the studio, which probably meant another all-nighter. He hated being alone in the room all by himself. It was actually much, much harder to think in a silent environment. The walls seemed so much narrower then, and the shadows more menacing. He was counting on Suguru and his supposed best friend, but Suguru had yet another date with his uncle, and Hiro was being non-committal.

"It's okay," he said decidedly, and punched his fist lightly onto his other palm. One of these days, he really had to learn how to be independent of his band or Yuki, so he might as well give Hiro a bit of breathing room. It wouldn't be fun to be stuck in a studio room with a grouchy, surly guitarist, so he might as well stick with the quiet for company.

"Excuse me," K popped his head into the room, and flashed everyone a megawatt smile. "Got time for a five minute interview?"

Everyone groaned in unison.

Suguru piped up, visibly annoyed. "K, you have got to stop dropping mine bombs on us. Don't tell us things five minutes before it happens, damn it!"

K waved his complaint off cheerfully, and waltzed in the room, obviously, very very pleased with himself. "It will be great for the upcoming album. A bit of promotion. Come along, don't look like that, Hiro."

He ushered them out the door, and they filed out, looking like members of the army, behind K's lead.

The harsh fluorescent lights in contrast to the darkened studio room made Shuichi blink twice, and the sudden flash only made him wince. A reporter emerged from behind his lens, and flashed a wide smile, which could rival K's.

Ah well.

Suddenly, Suguru transformed into the charming rascally keyboardist that he was, Hiro became the sexy rock star guitarist which made Shuichi want to laugh, because they used to joke about that persona so often behind the scenes, and Shuichi… he tried hard to keep his genki, optimistic personality on the front lines.

"So, how's the album coming along?"

_Well, at the rate I'm going, it will be another ten years before we see it finished._

"Great!" Shuichi said brightly, followed by enthusiastic nods from Suguru and Hiro. "We'll be going into post-production soon, and hopefully, everything will turn out okay."

Five more questions later, and Shuichi wanted to crawl into the nearest bar he could fine, and pop ten beers. His smile was waning, and it was taking all the effort he could to make sure those muscles didn't droop into a tired, sulky frown.

"And how are things looking at home with the famous novelist lover, Shindou-san?"

He resisted rolling his eyes. Yuki subscribed to the daily paper just to see whether they made front page news. It was amusing to him, and perplexing to Shuichi. So far, they had Shuichi "tragically break up with famous novelist Yuki Eiri, over production company mogul Tohma Seguchi" and "Yuki elopes with unidentified girl to the Bahamas." That one had Shuichi wail for three days until the paper came out with yet another gem. "Yuki Eiri pines for Shuichi, distance pushing them apart." He had laughed so hard, until Yuki decided to stop subscription. He has since been an avid follower of the Tokyo Economist daily.

"Well, I hadn't been kicked out of the house yet, so I suppose we are doing just fine." He beamed for the reporter's benefit.

"Ten months now, to be exact," the reporter confirmed.

Beside him, Hiro coughed too loudly- as if to mask his laughter. The reporter didn't hear, so Shuichi shifted his foot and aimed it at his shin. "Why don't we ask Hiro how things are going between him and Ayaka, hmm?" he suggested innocently. The reporter's face lighted up at the prospect for more dirt, and directed the microphone at Hiro.

"Ayaka and I are doing great," Hiro complied, shooting dark looks at Shuichi and Suguru who were sniggering into their shoes.

K shooed the reporter off after ten minutes, and kicked them off into the studio again.

There was slight bickering then, with Suguru making mock news reports on Shuichi and Yuki eloping to China, and Hiro and Ayaka deciding to have a brood of thirteen kids. Shuichi laughed and laughed, and pulled faces at Hiro when he pretended to sulk. He was relieved, to see at last the worry lines on Hiro's forehead smooth themselves out, and the twinkle in his eyes return.

The mood in the Bad Luck camp was much lighter after that, and to Shuichi's relief, he managed to finish one song two hours after everyone had left for home.

* * *

He'd almost forgotten about Yuki's deep dark secret too, until Yuki pulled up at the carpack to take him home. The sight of Yuki's furrowed eyebrows, and the pulled down mouth made him want to backtrack and run back to the comfort of the studio.

One thing Shuichi hadn't learned to grasp, and could not stop even if he tried, was to diffuse awkward situations by filling the silences with all his talking. He babbled incoherently, distinctly aware of Yuki's grumpy silence, and pulled out anything he could register from his head.

"So the stupid reporter kept asking how was our love life and all, and that's the five millionth time anyone has ever asked that question. You wouldn't believe how fed up I was. Hiro wasn't himself today too, and I had the suckiest time at work trying to string together a proper sentence," he pouted.

"Couldn't Hiro have sent you back?" Yuki asked grumpily, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel when they reached the red light. "I was on a very important phone call."

Shuichi laughed it off nervously. "He didn't want to wait for me, the meanie. Ah mou, Yuki, you want me to walk home?"

"Well, a little exercise can do you good."

"Hah!" he retorted. "You don't exercise, and you're telling me to do the same." He said it before thinking, but then again, that was what he always did.

There was a little smirk on Yuki's face now, and he was distracted enough to turn to Shuichi's direction and tell him, "I get my exercise in the bedroom."

Shuichi coloured at this remark, and stared pointedly at the traffic light. "It's green," he mumbled, when Yuki hadn't shifted the gears yet. He turned left, instead of heading right, prompting Shuichi to ask whether he knew the way home.

"You haven't eaten, have you?" Yuki asked shortly, and left it at that.

The cell rang twice, one from Mika-san, and the other was Tatsuha- Shuichi could tell it was him from the way he shrieked into the phone, and the way Yuki held his phone a feet away from his ear. Yuki didn't answer Mika's call-he simply told Shuichi that she had annoyed him enough for the day- but he picked up Tatsuha's with a gruff hello.

"-I'll see you tomorrow, and really, Tatsuha, clean up the damn guest room. It smells almost as bad as you." He shut the phone and chucked it on the cup holder by the gear stick.

"You shouldn't answer the phone while driving."

"Look, one hand," Yuki said, and released his left from the wheel to thumb through Shuichi's hair.

"We could die," Shuichi whispered dramatically, and clutched the strap as if it was a lifejacket.

Yuki rolled his eyes, and pulled the car up to a stop in front of the Chinese restaurant.

"Maybe you should really walk home next time," he said sarcastically before turning off the ignition.

"Don't answer the door if you don't know who it is, and stay with Hiro if he lets you, remember to feed the cat, and don't break any of my things, or you die," Yuki said solemnly, sipping the rice wine slowly, and enjoying stares from the other patrons.

"Yuki, I'm not five."

"Just remember to feed the cat."

Shuichi stabbed his fork into the mackerel steamed with soy sauce, and spring onions. "You should name her, you know. It would make things easier instead of saying 'the cat.' "

"There's no way I'm rearing a pet," Yuki said snidely, ignoring Shuichi's what-the-fuck look.

"You feed her, you don't even mind her sleeping outside the door of the apartment, and you tell maintenance that no, you haven't seen or heard any cats around. What is that if not protecting and keeping her?" Shuichi resisted the urge to tell Yuki of the various names he had thought out for her. It would be perfect! Pocky, or Tama, or a cool name like CK.

"I just happen to have food lying around."

"You just happen to buy cat food?"

"Yes."

"Anyway," he continued, ignoring Shuichi. "I should be gone for two whole days, and if anything is remotely broken at home, there will be hell to pay."

"Yuki really, you—"

Shuichi was cut off by a loud squeal coming from his left side. He looked up from his table, and peered into the gushing face of a teenaged girl. She was wearing a waitress's outfit, and she had a thermos mug full of tea in one hand. Grinning nervously, he nodded slightly at her and hoped fervently for her to go away.

"Shuichi Shindou-san?" She was breathless, and her hand shook. Drops of tea spilt from the trembling thermos jar in her hands.

"Hai?" He heard Yuki curse, and then a mumble ("how stupid can a person get?") and then realization struck him. "I mean no, sorry, you got the wrong person."

She had heard him the first time. Her thermos shook violently as she clutched it to her heart and squealed again. "Ohmygod, it's you!"

"—You look as good as you do on telly. Ohmygod, it's really you! Can I have a picture? Or perhaps maybe a photograph?" She edged closer and closer to him, her face looming nearer and nearer. He could feel the sweat break out from his forehead.

"S…sure," he obliged, and posed awkwardly for a picture, and doodled his name on one of the menus she had shoved at him.

Yuki was glowering from the other end of the table.

He was afraid that if she did not disappear within five minutes, Yuki would have something very nasty to say to her. Like 'Excuse me, could you please go the fuck away?' and, 'Leave us the fuck alone?' Not forgetting, 'How does it feel like to pine after something you can't have?' Oh my god, the horror.

"Listen," she chirped, and batted her purple eyeshadowed lids at him. "When you do break up with him-" she jerked a thumb towards Yuki, "Give me a call."

Yuki piped up. "We'll make sure you'll be the first on the list to know," he said with scathing politeness.

"Great!" she beamed and to his relief, disappeared among the crowd in the restaurant.

After a moment's silence, Yuki asked him, "So, why are your fans even more retarded than mine?"

* * *

"Yes, I'm coming Hiro, don't nag…" Shuichi grumbled, as he made his way through the apartment, picking things up from the floor one by one, and putting it on himself. First, his jacket, then his scarf lying beside his DVD collection, and finally his gloves by his shoes by the door way. He ran all the way back to the bedroom, after putting on his gloves, skidding slightly to a stop.

"Bye, Yuki!" he yelled from the doorway, to the lump somewhere in the middle of the bed. A hand poked from the mountains of sheets, and waved somewhat tiredly before it disappeared again. "Call me once you reach your dad's!"

He could hear Hiro grumbling from the other end of the phone.

"I'll be down in three seconds," he promised, and clicked his phone shut.

He made it four steps down the hallway, before he backtracked again into the apartment. He had forgotten his backpack. He couldn't find the damn thing, and he was sure he left it by the leather couch the night before. Maybe Yuki's cat stole it. He peered under the couch, ripped apart the cabinet, and dug into Yuki's wardrobe before he realized he had it on all along, perched nicely on his back.

Hiro was really going to be mad.

Sure enough, his cell phone rang on cue. "I'll be down right away, I promise," he gushed when he accepted the call.

"…hurry."

He jammed his socked feet into his shoes, and leapt out the door, racing towards the lifts. The door closed with a loud enough bang, even from his distance, and Shuichi gasped. Oh no. Yuki was going to be really mad at him too.

"That was the longest three seconds ever," Hiro huffed from his bike as Shuichi ran towards him, and waved. He caught the helmet easily, and climbed onto the bike.

"Sorry, sorry…" he grinned sheepishly. He caught Hiro's eye in the bike's front mirrors, who returned his grin with a sarcastic smile.

"I don't get it," Hiro went on, obviously not letting that go. He knew what was coming. "Yuki's _your _boyfriend. So why does he get to sleep in, while I have to wake up extra early just to make the detour to your place to pick you up? And we even have leave today. Why are you going to work when you're on leave?"

"Oh, c'mon Hiro. Don't be a nag… Yuki's going off, and you refuse to accompany me so what else am I suppose to do?" Shuichi wrapped his arms around Hiro's waist securely, and managed to rest his chin on the tip of Hiro's shoulders, only to be elbowed off. "Owww.." he frowned, rubbing his chin where Hiro's elbow got him.

He remembered Yuki's grumbles from the night before in the car, and bit his lip. "Yuki was saying something of that accord yesterday."

"About what?" Hiro asked, curious.

"Nah, it's nothing. He was just being grumpy, like you are lately." He smiled, and once more, tightened his grip on Hiro's waist.

Hiro didn't say anything after that and Shuichi didn't push. He rested his helmet on Hiro's back and tried to drown out the sound of the engines and sleep. The gravel on the road whizzing past his vision was dizzing though; so he shifted, making it so that he was looking into the mirror instead, past Hiro's shoulders. He couldn't really see Hiro's expression through the glass of the helmet.

Sometimes, Shuichi had to remind himself that Hiro and him weren't just Hiro and him any longer. They came towed with a hell lot of extras and baggage, and a lot of compromise had to be created in order to maintain their friendship. Shuichi had Yuki, and a continous struggle for the perfect balance in the swing of their relationship. Hiro had Ayaka-san, but it looked as if turbulences never occurred in their relationship. Shuichi counted on Hiro whenever something happened, and Hiro would be there, to iron out the wrinkles, and to make things right again for the Yuki and him. But, Hiro had never needed Shuichi to play mediator because he had never heard of Ayaka throwing a fit, or Hiro whining about her. It seemed perfect. They seemed perfect.

So even if he was desperate enough to ask Hiro to accompany him for the day, and let him stay over for the night, and he _knew_ Hiro would comply if he asked enough times, he wouldn't. Maybe he wanted to spend time with Ayaka, and Shuichi would be the understanding friend to let him do just that.

"See you Monday," Shuichi said, when he got off the bike and stood on the kerb. He shoved his helmet back to Hiro and gave a little wave.

"You'll be okay alone right? If you really need me, call."

Shuichi rolled his eyes, and turned his back. He said, in an offhand tone, loud enough to hear above the roaring engine, "I'm not five. Enjoy your weekend, Hiro."

"Okay, bye, Shuichi. Good luck with the lyric writing." Then he heard the screech of the tires on the tarmac, as Hiro sped off. He turned, to see the bits of red hair fluttering wildly against the wind and the white shirt of his best friend into the bright morning sunlight.

Ah, he sighed. Back to work.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you guys enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. As usual, feedback is very much adored and cherished. Speculation is welcome, and I would very much want to see what you think of what will happen next. So, feel free to spill.  



	6. Chapter 6

Shuichi made friends with the downstairs neighbour on Saturday evening, and tried to get the seemingly friendly Jun-san to hang out with him on Sunday in a pathetic attempt not to be alone, but he had declined politely saying that he had a date with his girlfriend. Actually, Shuichi thought he looked kind of scared when he declined. He had emphasized "girlfriend" too and added the word in as many times as he could during their short conversation.

He tried calling Yuki but he didn't pick up. He tried calling Hiro, but he didn't pick up either so he left two voice messages whining about how he was too busy hanging out with Ayaka to even answer a simple phone call.

He couldn't sleep at night either. He stayed up the whole time, writing songs feverishly and ended up with a sea of balled-up papers around his feet. He could hear the damn clock ticking, and it got on his nerves so much that he took a chair, climbed on it, turned the clock around and peeled off the batteries so that the needles stayed put at 3:14 am.

He sighed, defeated, and rested his cheek on the cold kitchen table until he felt the tip of his pencil digging into his cheek. The silence was entirely too loud for him. Come to think of it, he hadn't really been alone- not for four years.

He wondered, with an aching curiosity, what Yuki was up to at his father's house. He didn't call, even though he promised to, and even though Shuichi had set a reminder on his cell phone. He'd waited like some pathetic girl for Rage Beat to play on his phone earlier at seven o'clock but no such call came.

Shoving his paranoid fears of Yuki caught in a freak snowstorm/hailstorm aside and locking it very securely in a secluded corner of his brain, Shuichi got up gingerly from his chair, winced at all the aches his joints made from sitting in one position for too long, and padded out to the balcony.

The gust blew in when he opened the door just a crack; and he shivered. He pushed the door wider open, and stepped outside. He yelped when he felt the sting of the floor against his bare feet. The city was beautiful like this. Thousands of lights against the night sky until it wasn't black anymore; more like a dark blue. He remembered once he mentioned it to Hiro, about the sky, and Hiro had smiled, and said that the lights reminded him of Shuichi, burning brightly, until even the stars couldn't be seen, Shuichi had burst out laughing, and told Hiro that that was the last thing he had expected to come out from his mouth, though he had felt something warm settle in the middle of his stomach.

Sliding down, so that he had the wall against his back, and the door facing his front, he took out his cellphone from his pocket, and speed dialed Hiro. When the voicemail picked it up, Shuichi ranted anyway, because he needed to clear his head. "Hey, Hiro. Sorry if you're busy, but it's quiet out here. Yuki's not picking up my call, and I wonder if he's been in some kind of an accident… Okay, I can imagine your face right there, stop it. Anyway, I all but wrote a song. I don't know. I can't write. It's too quiet." He paused for a while before adding a hushed, "Can you call back once you're free?"

Tucking the cellphone back into his pocket, he trudged back into the warm comforts of the living room, and turned on the television. There were weird game shows on, a advertisement of a slimming centre, and repeats of last season's anime. He settled for the silly game show. The host, a scary looking lady in fluorescent pink described the rules of the game about to be played before she introduced the guests. A clip of a girl dancing para-para style was shown on rewind mode, and the guests had to do their best to reenact the same dance moves the right way around. Shuichi grinned. He would probably win the contest if he joined.

Two seconds later, he gasped in horror. He did win the contest! He did the best moves, and he did them all correctly, and in sync too! The prize was a DDR machine, but Yuki had secretly sold it off when Shuichi was away on tour. He grimaced, when he saw his face on the screen. He was beaming with pride, shifting his weight left and right, and nodded happily everytime the host mentioned his name. Hiro, on the other hand, had one hand on his face, balanced by his other hand crossed across his chest. He glanced at Shuichi and shook his head slightly. Suguru flashed his set of white teeth and waved to the fans.

Shuichi made a face to himself onscreen, and aimed the remote at the telly. He was tired, and the genuinely happy smile on his face on the screen seemed alien to him.

"Yosh," he said firmly to himself, curling his fingers into fists. "I have to finish two more songs by dawn." Yuki will be back tomorrow, and Hiro will call soon. It will turn out fine.

The kitchen table seemed miles away from the couch where he sat, so he dragged the coffee table towards him with his foot, and reached for the blunt, one inch pencil hanging precariously over the edge of the table. He plucked a ball of white from under the couch, and smoothened it so he could use the back of the paper.

His cell rang, just as he was reaching the second verse, and he jumped up, startled by the sudden blaring of two guitars. "Hirooo," he cried into his phone; milking for all it's worth.

There was a pause, and then "What the hell is wrong with you? It's nearly five."

"Ah Yuki!" Sighing in relief, he shifted so he was buried in the couch. "You were supposed to call at seven."

"I was busy. I repeat: what the hell are you doing up at 5 am?" He could hear the flick of the lighter over the phone. And then a sharp intake of breath, as Yuki drew on his cigarette.

"You're the one to talk. You are calling me at this weird hour. I could be sleeping!"

"Just wanted to scare you. Anyway, how are you doing? Still dying over your lyrics, I assume?" He heard Yuki's smug grin all the way from Tokyo, and he wanted to punch him for it.

"Yeah. Having a hard time with it. Deadline's creeping up. We still have lots to do. Everybody is waiting for me." He settled his hand on the couch, loosening the grip on his pencil.

"Heh… I'm free now."

He nodded sleepily with a smile, simply enjoying Yuki's voice, before perking up. "Eh? Did I hear correctly, Yuki?"

"Oh well, I guess I'll go back to bed then."

"No no no no no – wait- hang on." Cupping the phone between his ear and his cheek, he scrambled all his lyric sheets together and sorted them. "What rhymes with coffee?"

"…"

"Eh? Yuki?"

"You must think you're real smart; trying to write lyrics in the middle of the night. No wonder things like that pop up in your songs," Yuki said dryly. When Shuichi didn't answer, Yuki said, "Don't do that. I can hear your pout all the way from here."

Shuichi scowled darkly. "You're a meanie."

"And that's a surprise to you."

"C'mon Yuki. Help. You promised."

Yuki thought for a while –there was a long silence on the phone and Shuichi didn't want to talk in case he distracted Yuki- and finally he spoke and said with an amused tone that the only thing he could think of was toffee. He choked with disbelief when

Shuichi squealed happily into the phone and went "Yes! That's it!"

"Seriously? Toffee?"

"It's perfect." He wrote a little note next to the word 'coffee' and proceeded on to the next word.

"Why are we even doing this?" Yuki complained mid-way, while Shuichi was half-way through the page. "K is just going to throw that piece of paper away and order you to write a new one."

"You haven't even heard the song yet!"

"I don't need to hear it to know that it will suck." There was another long pause, and then a theatrical sniffle, and then "…yeah, what's the next word?"

By five am, Shuichi had two songs in the bag. Yuki was talking slower now, and Shuichi could hear him yawn every 2 minutes, but he didn't say anything about hanging up so Shuichi didn't either. He wasn't sleepy; not really.

"So…anyway, Dad was being a fucking pain in the --yawn-- ass today. You should have seen him."

"Eh…why? What happened?" He asked while he rummaged around the kitchen for a knife.

"Well… everyone was a fucking pain in the ass. I felt like going home the minute I reached." Yuki snorted over the phone. Shuichi heard him shifting around, and the rustling of leaves. He assumed he was on the front porch, or out at the gardens, beside the fish pond.

"Yuki, aren't you in your room?" Yatta! The knife was hidden behind the stack of bowls beside the sink. He huddled over the sink, and began peeling the skin off his orange.

"…couldn't sleep." There was another flick of the lighter and Shuichi's eyes widened.

"That's your fifth cigarette!"

"Oh, really?"

"You only chain smoke when something's up!"

"Well, I can't sleep." Yuki sounded defensive now, and Shuichi heard muffled sounds.

A light bulb lit up in Shuichi's mind. "Eh Yuki, something's bothering you so that's why you called me, right?"

He continued happily when Yuki didn't answer. "You missed me so you called me right?"

"I knew it! You do love me!"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Goodnight Yuki, I love you too!" Shuichi beamed.

"No, seriously. I'm hanging up." Yuki sounded annoyed now.

"Hai, hai. I'm sorry." He leaned in closer to the phone. "What's wrong?"

"…Ne, Shuichi," Yuki said softly. "Do you think that maybe…"

Shuichi waited patiently to hear the rest. He climbed up so he was seated on top of the kitchen cabinets and dangling his legs over the sink. He popped two pips into his mouth and chewed them quietly so Yuki couldn't hear.

"…that I'm a coward? I'm always running away from things."

He remembered what Mika had shot off to Yuki in her temper and how he had flinched when she had said it. Apparently, it touched a raw nerve. "Of course not," he said.

"Sure, you may have bad things happened to you in the past, but you have never run away from them." He didn't like a sad Yuki. It was worse than a mean Yuki, in many ways. Yuki rarely opened up to anybody when something upset him, and if he did tell Shuichi now, it probably affected him a lot.

"I do. I ran off to New York, and then I ran back here."

"And now, I'm doing the same thing all over again," he continued.

"I think, Yuki, that you are running towards something instead, even though I don't know what that is. Not running away from something." Shuichi rested his chin on his knee, and waited for Yuki's response.

"…huh. Baka. Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Of course I do!" Shuichi shot back, indignant. "You think that I only have two brain cells but I do think sometimes you know!"

"I bet you do," came the sarcastic reply.

"I gotta be going off now anyway," Yuki muttered. "Have to be up early to lead prayers."

"Kay, good night Yuki."

"Remember to eat."

"Hai hai."

"Make sure the balcony door is locked or you'll freeze to death."

"Hai ha—how do you know I was out on the balcony?"

He heard yuki smirk again. "You always go there when you have writer's block."

"… okay, it's locked."

"Remember to feed the cat."

"Hai hai."

"Make sure my laundry is dried."

"Eh…. Can't you do it yourself when you get home… ah mou… hai hai."

"Remember to call Mizuki-san and extend my deadline. She's nicer to you."

"No she's not!" Shuichi sniffed. "Hai hai. Anything else?" Like what's really going on?

"Hmm… Phone sex?"

"Yuki!"

"I guess not. Bye."

-Click-

* * *

Monday was gloomy; Tokyo was thawing by now, but it wasn't pretty. The freezing rain that sometimes came and went alternately with the sun left ugly puddles on the road, and watermarks on the vehicles. The sky was permanently fixed in a bleak gray. The sun was coming out a lot more though, and Shuichi had ditched his scarf that morning when he went out to work.

It wasn't really fun talking to yourself, nor was it any better jamming by yourself. Hiro was too distracted to even mutter a hello when he saw Shuichi crawling in to the studios – literally crawling, since he hardly got any sleep the night before.

Still, he submitted his lyrics to K-san with a sense of achievement and relief. At least something was accomplished, though it had taken nearly ten shots of expresso, plus Yuki's input, and the controlling the urge to bang his head against the wall every ten minutes in a bid to squeeze out the last drops of creative juices left in his brain. If he had any to begin with…

He was nodding off on the couch. He jumped awake every time he heard a sound, thinking it was Tohma coming in to check up on them. Other than Suguru fiddling with the keyboard bits in the recording section of the studio, and Hiro secretly talking into his cell phone while pretending to play his guitar, it was fairly quiet. Shuichi had nothing else to do yet; he had to wait for input from his band members.

He covered a hand across his eye, and slunk deeper into the cushions.

Yuki sounded fairly melancholy (vulnerable, even.) when he was on the phone earlier the morning before, but he reached home grumpy, grim and cold. Not exactly Shuichi's idea of a good welcoming home. Just when he needed someone to rant to too, since he was faced with the company of walls all weekend.

"Can't.Talk." Yuki had said, stumbling through the door when he had returned home. "Gotta get sleep," he gestured vaguely at the bedroom door before making his way there, yawning the whole time. He'd came out to ask Shuichi to shut up when he was going through his CD collection and had put one in the stereo system to play.

He hummed the beginning of the chords for one of his newest songs, and tried singing the verse with his newly written lyrics. Anything to ease his fidgetiness, and also to stop his mind from shutting down and going into sleep-mode.

_Mmmmmm. Mmmm mmm mm mm m mmmmmm…_

"Hey, Shuichi.."

He snapped his eyes open, and peeked at Hiro from between his fingers.

"Pass me the guitar pick, won't you?"

"Eh?... Ah…" He looked around a bit before seeing it, hidden amidst a mass of papers on the coffee table.

"Here…" he handed it to Hiro.

"Thanks."

"…yeah…" He looked as his best friend threw the old pick away, and used the new one to strum the guitar strings. Hiro looked as if he was in a worse state than Shuichi. His eye-bags were twice as large.

"..How was your weekend?" Hiro asked, glancing up at Shuichi before returning to his axe.

Shuichi winced. He let the whine of Hiro's guitar die down before answering. "Wrote lyrics the whole time. It was okay, I guess."

"Ah…"

"Where were you?"

"Eh?" Hiro's hand dropped the pick this time, and he looked up. A shadow crossed his face before he smiled, and made the shadow disappear. "Was busy."

"To even call me back?" Shuichi asked it teasingly, but even that fell flat towards the end.

There was a huge sigh, and Hiro looked up, an awkward apology written all over his face. His smile seemed forced this time. "Sorry, Shuichi…"

"Forget it," Shuichi said grudgingly. He had had enough of prying; or not-prying. All he wanted was to find out why Hiro was so down lately, and help him fix it so he could wipe the frown off his face. Whatever it was, he could at least confirm one thing- he was not the reason that Hiro was upset. Which probably meant that it had either got to be due to Ayaka, or some other weird reason that Shuichi could not think of at that very moment.

But it couldn't be Ayaka. She wouldn make him this edgy; and for so many days!

Shuichi frowned. It couldn't be him either! As far as he knew, he didn't do anything wrong… --except that one time last week when he stole his belt, and his pants wouldn't stay up.

"Ne…Shu-chan—"

"Don't call me that," he grumbled.

"Let's go drinking tonight."

"Really?" he brightened up, and stared in disbelief and delight (even though he tried to mask it).

Hiro nodded, and crooked a smile – a real one this time – at Shuichi. "Just you and me, and a sixpack between us."

He nodded enthusiastically, his spirits lifting.

Yossh-a! He was all ready to sing ten songs in one go now. He pushed back his sleeves to look at his watch. Just three more hours till the recording session ends.. He'd better call Yuki too, to inform him that he won't be eating dinner, and maybe if it gets too late, he would stay over at Hiro's.

Just like old times.

Grinning from ear to ear, Shuichi shifted his weight a little, and knocked into Hiro. The squeals of the guitar resonated around the room, as Hiro's hand slipped and knocked into several random chords. All the sound technicians who had just came in ten minutes ago, whipped around and winced at the two of them, who had their eyes shut and hands over their ears.

"Sorry," Hiro lifted a hand in apology to the men over at the machines when the sound had died, before gesturing at Shuichi. "This guy doesn't know how to handle a guitar."

"Sorry," Shuichi nodded slightly, before cocking his head in Hiro's direction. "That guy over there likes to show off."

One of them shook his head slightly in disapproval before returning to his soundboard, and the others simply laughed.

"You owe me dinner too," Shuichi added, before getting up to join Suguru in the other section. "C'mon, let's play."

* * *

"So where do you think we should go?" Shuichi asked, scratching his neck slightly at the stubborn itch at the back of his neck.

"You choose. Yakiniku, or ramen? Or, if you like, we can go to the combini to get sushi and the six pack and hang out in the park," Hiro suggested. He smiled at one of the members of the new band, Zack, who was heading into the building.

Shuichi waved happily at him.

"Retard," Hiro muttered, and rubbed the knob at the back of Shuichi's neck affectionately. "You have a rep to keep. At this rate, all the newbies will think you're easy to approach."

"Oh but I am," Shuichi quipped. He leaned into Hiro's touch, as they kept walking, making their way to the exit. Ah, feels good. He got the spot where he was unable to reach.

"That's so uncool," Hiro replied.

The automatic door slided open efficiently, and a gust of wind blew into their faces. He opened his mouth to reply, but was caught dumbstruck instead at the sight that greeted him in the parking lot.

Reporters. Journalists with scary looking tape recorders, and huge notebooks. Cameramen with machine-gun like devices.

He raised his hand instantly to shield himself from the flashes that went out all at once. What could be happening? Perhaps, another marketing gimmick orchestrated by K-san?

Then, his all his senses fired up at once when he caught a few of the questions the reporters threw at them. Or, more accurately, at Hiro.

"When did you last see her?"

"….break up was caused by Shuichi, is there any truth in that, Hiro-san?"

"Did you refuse to marry her?"

Hiro?

He looked at his best friend, confused and dumbfounded. Hiro looked as if he was in a daze too.

What the…

It couldn't be…

His stomach grew cold. "Hiro?" Worry in his voice.

"You go first," Hiro said softly. Catch up later, he mouthed, as Shuichi was pushed away from the crowd that surged up to question Hiro. Someone accidentally elbowed him, and he stepped on another reporter's shoe. It was also kind of hard to see; since Shuichi was about as short as a ten year old.

"Yeah, we officially broke up five days ago," he could hear Hiro explain, and "there were obvious differences that led to the break up," and no, "it wasn't caused by an outside party."

The commotion grew even bigger at this point, and Shuichi couldn't differentiate the bucketful of questions that were shouted out anymore.

He felt sick.

He stood on the kerb, and stared blankly, at the little red dot in the middle of the crowd of reporters.

At one point, a journalist moved, and he caught Hiro's eyes. His were filled with questions and a growing sense of betrayal.

Hiro's eyes were unreadable.

"Shindou Shuichi-san." He jumped as a mike was shoved into his face. "How long did you know Ayaka-san?"

"Uh, not really," he laughed nervously, stepping back.

"Rumour has it that she used to be Yuki Eiri's fiancé. Is there any truth in that?"

"Uh…"

Another reporter joined his little snivelly friend. "Was the break up caused by you?"

"Did Ayaka reportedly refuse to marry Hiro because you were in the way?"

What the hell.. Why did all this happen, and why didn't he know?

"Shuichi?" A familiar hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly the big crowd of people were around him again, and it became hard to breathe. Microphones were pushed expectantly into their faces, waiting for the either of them to say something.

He looked into Hiro's anxious face. Always; he always gave Hiro the benefit of his doubt. This shouldn't be any different. There had to be a reason.

...Right?

Hiro's eyes were filled with apology; and Shuichi had his answer.

"Have ta go," he said softly with a small smile before firmly pushing Hiro's hand off his shoulder. Hiro's lingering fingers felt hot on his hands; shaking, and pleading. but Shuichi let them go.

The reporters were having a field day. He could feel the flashes going off as he pushed his way through the crowd and walked off the grounds of the building.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates; I've been busy working lately. As always, feedback and thoughts appreaciated.**


	7. Chapter 7

Shuichi paused and sighed, letting his head droop beyond the fence. Grass stared back at him, and a single lone flower.

He didn't know where else to go so he simply walked, and his feet automatically led him to the park. Home wasn't an option; the last thing he wanted Yuki to see was this version of him.

Stupid Hiro.

In all their years and years of friendship, he never would have thought he would hide something like this from him. He thought they were close enough to know each other's deepest secrets. He knew he could trust Hiro with his; but did Hiro not feel the same way? It wasn't that he didn't know something was up – he had pried for weeks, and Hiro had kept a tight lid.

And to have the paparazzi find out before _he _ever did…

That pretty much summed up their friendship, right?

He didn't want to be the friend that always took, but not give anything back. Hiro was his rock, and he wanted to be the same for him; the first person to call when something was wrong.

"Shuichi!"

He whipped around, and saw Hiro running towards him.

"There you are." Hiro stopped a few feet short, both hands on his knees, and gasping for breath.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner—"

"Were you even planning to tell me at all." He stared at Hiro, his heart beating furiously beneath his chest.

"I know you're mad, just hear me out…" Hiro pleaded, walking up to Shuichi, near enough to touch him.

Shuichi looked away.

"I didn't want to burden you, okay? You have enough problems going on you don't need another one that doesn't involve you."

"That doesn't involve me? Since when does this not involve me?" he choked, stepping forward so he and Hiro were chest to well… head. "You could have said something! I could have helped!"

"It's a problem between me and Ayaka. We couldn't sort it out… so we broke up. There's nothing to fix." Hiro stepped back, and frowned. "I don't get why you're so upset, Shuichi."

… No use arguing when Hiro doesn't understand.

He'd enough of feeling useless.

"Nevermind. You don't get it." He shook his head, and turned around but Hiro stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Then explain so that I do. What are you so mad about!"

He whipped around and shouted furiously, "The last time I checked, we are supposed to be best friends. The last time I checked, I was worried sick about you. I asked, you didn't tell. Fine. But to have them knowing before I did…"

"So," Hiro had his hands on his hips, and an equally frustrated expression locked on his face, "you're mad because other people knew and you didn't?"

"That's not it," Shuichi yelled. "I'm sick of not being relied upon when other people are in trouble."

"Ohmygod, is this what this is about?" Hiro looked annoyed now. "We're having this argument because you're insecure."

Shuichi felt like punching Hiro in the face. He didn't know how to explain how he felt, and he wasn't helping. Yes, he was insecure. Yes, he was a brat. But that wasn't it. "That's not it!" He glared at Hiro. "I… I.."

_I what? I want to be reliable. I want you to be as dependent on me as I am on you._

"I still don't know why you and Ayaka broke up," he finished lamely.

"We don't match okay. We don't have time for each other anymore, and things just weren't going smoothly—"

"Then if it was that simple, you _could have told me._ If it was just time, I could cover for you and you could have spent more time with her!"

"Look, you couldn't have done anything to prevent this from happening to Ayaka and me. Stop being childish, okay?"

"I could have tried! If you'd told me, I could have at least tried! Ayaka's nice, she would have list—"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Hiro snarled. "Not everything is about you Shuichi. She won't just come back just because you tell her to."

He stumbled backwards, all the come-backs in his head flying off to leave a blank space behind.

"I was just trying to help."

"I'm sorry that you're always dealing with my shit," he said hotly. "And I'm sorry that I'm always messing up. And I'm sorry that I'm not even worthy of your trust."

"You're always like that!" Hiro groaned, clutching his face. "You always talk that self-pitying crap every time something bad happens. It's the same with your lyrics and your music. You're good enough, Shuichi. You just keep telling yourself that you're not."

"That's because I'm not!" Shuichi shouted. He was so pissed off he couldn't see straight. He was pissed because Hiro couldn't see where he was going, and what he was trying to say (or not say). "I don't just say all that just to beat myself down and wait for you to prop me up! I can't help it if nothing comes into my brain and I can't write. I can't help it if my voice sucks. That's just the way it is. I can't help it that I'm stupid!"

"That's all you ever do! You just beat yourself down," Hiro roared. "Why do you think I never told you all this? You can't handle your own problems, how can you even handle mine?"

"So that's what you think of me as, huh?" he shouted back. "Some useless idiot who depends on you every time he gets in trouble? Why didn't you just say so when I came to you for help?"

"Exactly," Hiro snarled. "Why do I always have to be your lifejacket, Shuichi? You fall back on me whenever Yuki ditches you, or says something mean, and you go running back to him just as easily. Just what do you think I am?"

It hurt to breathe a little after Hiro said that. The shouts and screams died down, until silence dominated the space between them, as both waited slightly in shock for the other's reaction. The back of his eyes were wet.

If he didn't go now… Hiro would see.

He took a deep breath, and drew back his arm…

…and threw Hiro a punch right in the middle of his stomach.

He knew it wouldn't hurt much; his stupid hand was much too small for any real impact, but it felt good to hear Hiro recoil and groan in pain as he ran off the grounds of the park.

* * *

"Look, if you're not coming out, I'm grabbing the nearest fucking knife in the kitchen and hack the door to pieces and make you pay for the replacement," Yuki threatened, his voice sounding hollow from behind the bathroom door.

Shuichi had been in there for ages and ages. The water was just below his heart when he'd first sunk himself in the tub, it was now slightly above his navel. His skin looked like dried prunes.

"Just a little longer," he said tiredly.

"A little longer would be five seconds in my books, Shu."

He climbed out of the tub, water dripping off his body and wetting the floor. He'd wanted so badly for a bath that he had forgone the towel and clothes; he'd just stripped and turned the tap on full blast.

He turned the lock of the door, and stood there, naked and shivering, as Yuki pushed the door open. He took one look at him, and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the bedroom. He assumed Tohma told him everything, Yuki would otherwise have asked what the hell was wrong with him.

The feel of Yuki's hands felt good though. His vision became white, as Yuki draped the towel over his head and began massaging it, drying out his hair.

"Sorry," he said miserably. "Didn't mean to make you worry."

"Who the fuck says I am?" Yuki retorted gruffly, and moved the towel to other parts of his body.

Shuichi fell silent.

"I don't know what to do," he said helplessly. Everything about that day just confirmed what his worst fears were. He was dependant on Hiro and Yuki; he was childish, as Hiro said he was, and he fell apart at every small thing gone wrong. He was a wreck.

He stuck out his hand and held on to the cuff of Yuki's dress shirt. He didn't dare to look up less Yuki pushed him away or rejected him in some other manner. He just stood there, head hung, and hands holding onto his shirt.

Only minutes passed, but Shuichi felt like he had stood there for hours. Yuki didn't say anything either; he just stood there with him in silence.

Shuichi didn't want to cry. It was childish, and he was too old to still be doing that. Besides, Yuki hated it when he cried. So he just stood, holding back his tears, sniffling every two minutes.

In the end, Yuki let go. But it was to get Shuichi's pajamas so he didn't catch a cold. He was still stark naked, standing there, exposed to the cold. Winter hadn't quite left them yet.

"Just. Get into bed." He steered Shuichi towards their bed. Shuichi followed numbly, his head slightly fuzzy due to the hot water, and the feel of his soft cottony pajamas.

"I have to go, though, Shuichi," Yuki said, when he pulled the blankets up to Shuichi's neck, and efficiently drew the curtains so that the room was sufficiently dark.

"Where?" he asked worriedly.

"Tatsuha. He's in town." Yuki's jaw clenched as he mentioned his brother's name. He looked worried, and a little reluctant, as if afraid to leave Shuichi alone by himself.

He nodded. He wanted Yuki to be there too, but he didn't want to push it. It was rare that Yuki didn't have his usual snide remarks, or the usual brushing off that everything was going to be okay and he didn't know why the hell Shuichi was being so paranoid over something small like that.

"Call when you need something, all right?" He left, grabbing his jacket, by the dresser on the way out. His silhouette glowed against the bright lights in the hall, until the crack got smaller and smaller until all Shuichi could see was the little glow of light under the door. A faint sound in the distance told him Yuki had gone out, closing the main door behind him as well.

In the darkness like that, he was afraid. It was so quiet that the only sound out there was his own breathing. He thought about Hiro and their little tussle in the park. Will they patch things up as usual? Hiro wasn't just normal angry like he would be when he's in big-brother mode, where he would be right, and Shuichi would sulk for a while, and then apologize when he realized his errors.

He was really, really mad this time, like it had been there all this while, slowly building up until that climax.

The stupid thing was; Shuichi was the angry one in the first place.

Now, he didn't even know who had the right to be angry or not anymore. What Hiro said, at the peak of their argument, shook his bones to the core.

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the replay of the scene.

Always, for as long as he could remember, Hiro didn't come without a smile on his face, and tenderness in his eyes that only Shuichi could recognize, and receive. Their friendship was special, Hiro said. They will conquer the world, Hiro said. They will reach heights even Nittle Grasper couldn't attain, Hiro said.

And then, Yuki came into his life. And Ayaka into Hiro's.

Suddenly, it was too crowded sometimes. Suddenly, plans had to be cancelled to make room for their other halves. Beer drinking sessions became rather infrequent, and hastily scrapped together, and heart-to-heart talks became increasingly rare. Gone were the times where they would have each other's company for hours and hours on end; now it was filled up with the band, and Yuki – Hiro, with Ayaka. And yet, Shuichi thought, he didn't really see Hiro with Ayaka all that much. Sure, there were the dates, but even those were sparse, with Hiro citing their busy schedule, and the distance as an excuse. Still, every time Ayaka came to town, they looked the perfect couple. They were always seen canoodling together, and laughing all the time.

But no matter what, every time Shuichi called, Hiro would answer. He would rush back from wherever he was, at whatever time to find out what was wrong. He always made time for him, no matter how busy he might be. Once, he was so upset over a fight with Yuki, and Hiro had came back from Kyoto, Ayaka's hometown, in the middle of the night, just to comfort him.

Did he take that for granted?

Was he using too much of Hiro's time with Ayaka until they broke up? Maybe that's what the press meant when they accused him of being the third party.

Maybe, without knowing, he'd become the burden in their friendship.

Friendship was give and take, they said, and all he did was take. No wonder Hiro hated him now. His kindness and patience could only last so long.

He hiccupped, only to realize, that he was sobbing on the pillow, and it was getting soaked.

* * *

The atmosphere in the studio room was tense, with Shuichi and Hiro not talking to each other, but shooting devious looks at one another when both thought the other wasn't looking.

Shuichi was caught up between feeling guilty, and angry, and sad. For a while, he would reason with himself that he had every right to be angry over the whole thing, and then he would change his mind and convince himself that Hiro was right to be pissed off at him. After that, he just felt tired. Fights left his throat clogged up, and his singing sucked as a result. He didn't want to give Hiro the upper hand by proving him right, so he did his best to get the shakiness out of his voice.

Fujisaki was furious. He was being made the intermediate of the band. When it was time to prep for a song, he would be the one to ask Shuichi for the song title so he could tell Hiro what chords to play. When one of the sound engineers asked to repeat a particular part of the song, he would be the one to discuss with the both of them separately and then relay each other's messages so they could come to an agreement. It was driving him nuts, but the both of them were too stubborn to make any peace.

Shuichi knew though, he couldn't hold out for long. He knew that Hiro thought the same. They were friends for too long to not know each other's faults and weaknesses. That made him angrier though; made him bite his lip for just a little longer and sniff in disdain every time Hiro made a suggestion and he was near enough to hear it.

Most of the time though, he just wanted to grab hold of Hiro's leather jacket and bury his head in it, and say sorry, and let Hiro ruffle his hair. Then, everything would be fine and go back to normal.

But Hiro squashed that thought right out of his head by making sarcastic jibes every time he messed up his singing and they had to start again. His heart would pound then, and his throat would clog up even more, because it was hard to hear it from someone who'd always encourage before. It was different with Yuki. A different type of sarcasm. He'd never thought he'd say it but Yuki was a lot nicer than Hiro that day.

It felt weird too, walking to work, and reaching ten minutes late because of it. Hiro had looked guilty for a while (or so Shuichi thought), but the expression disappeared so quickly that he knew he must have imagined it somehow.

He went up on the roof when it was lunch break. It felt suffocating, to be in the little studio, that he decided to get some fresh air. Only he didn't count on Hiro to be there as well.

"Um. I was just… leaving," he finished lamely when he burst through the door, to see Hiro staring at him on the other side, leaning against the fence, a cigarette in his lips.

"Tohma wants to see us." The quiet statement made Shuichi stop in his tracks. He heard Hiro's footsteps approaching nearer and nearer, until he passed him and out the door, cigarette smoke trailing behind.

Shuichi looked on helplessly. He was sick of this fight already. "Look, Hiro," he called out to his retreating back. "Can we just…drop this."

Hiro stopped, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he sat down on the first stair, and heaved a huge sigh. "I'm sick of all this too."

Shuichi walked up to him and sat beside him. "We're really screwed up, huh." The ashes from Hiro's cigarette dropped into a pile on the step below them. Hiro sniggered suddenly, and smiled at him.

"Ah huh. I meant to tell you sooner. I just… you had enough to deal with already that it didn't seem fair to add on to it. Ayaka was pissed off at me for weeks now. Why am I always so busy with work, she would shout over the phone, and why do I always have time for you but not her?" He took a long drag on his cigarette, put both his hands on the floor, and looked up at the ceiling, puffing out the smoke.

"I was being selfish," Shuichi said miserably. "I shouldn't have taken you for granted. I hogged up most of your time without thinking about Ayaka. She gave up Yuki to me already… and now she has to share you with me too. Of course she would be pissed."

"Believe me, Shuichi... it's not that simple. It's not your fault that we broke up." Hiro looked down at Shuichi, and then reached over with his other hand (which was cigarette-free) to ruffle it.

"But you love her, don't you? Isn't she worth fighting for if you do?" He squinted, trying to look through his pink bits of hair. Hiro reached over to brush it away from his face.

His smile was a rueful one. "I've been asking myself that question, and I can honestly say, I don't know."

Shuichi didn't know how to reply to that. Appearances can really be deceiving, huh. He and Yuki, after a million fights, were still together for all this while, whereas Ayaka and Hiro…

"How 'bout you?" Hiro asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Can you honestly say that you love Yuki?"

The answer was an easy one. "Yes," he said firmly. He did, with all his heart.

Hiro smiled again, and looked back down to the floor. His cellphone rang, but he ignored it. "Of course you do."

"Hiro?"

His best friend got up, dusting off his jacket, and the back of his jeans. "C'mon. Tohma's calling us." He offered his hand.

The feel of Hiro's warm hands again after so long, felt good, and safe. He hauled up to his feet, and it felt great to bury his head in Hiro's jacket, and feel like he was home. "Sorry," he whispered. He had wanted to do it the whole day. Hiro squeezed his hand.

"It's okay," he said, his voice low. They started down the stairs together, and Shuichi couldn't help but think there was a new weariness on Hiro's face, and new lines on his forehead that had nothing to do with age.

* * *

**A/N:** I keep thinking of OLIVIA's A Little Pain after writing this. I think, the song probably fits the mood of this chapter. As usual, thank you for your feedback and kindness, especially those who've stayed with me for every chapter. You all are truly truly rockstars. 


	8. Chapter 8

Tohma's smile was beleaguering; it was a smile each and every one of his minions knew how to read. The curve on his lips meant that Hiro and Shuichi had better tread cautiously if they wanted to get out of his spacious office alive.

On his smooth mahogany table were rows and rows of magazines and newspapers all with one thing in common. "Scandal in Bad Luck!", one screamed. "Did Hiro break up with Ayaka for Shuichi?" asked another. The black and white pictures did nothing to tone the images down; if anything else, it made the text bolder and more eye- catching. There was Hiro flustered as he faced the many reporters aiming their tape recorders and mikes at him, and there was Shuichi pushing Hiro's hand away and leaving the scene. There were many indents on one particular newspaper, dog-eared and torn at the edges, indicating that someone had probably tossed the paper around and vented his anger on it.

Shuichi gulped. This was Not Good.

Before he had any chance to redeem himself (and Hiro), Tohma spoke first. He placed a hand on a magazine, and that move alone made the both of them tense, and shuffle their legs in nervous anticipation.

"I don't think this needs anymore explaining as to why I called the both of you up," Tohma said easily, the smile ever present on his face, but his eyes narrowed.

They knew from past experience not to interrupt when The Man was talking, so neither of them said anything.

"It's not a thing I expect especially with the release of your album forthcoming."

"Haven't the two of you been in the industry long enough to know how to deal with the press? That—" he pressed the remote button that sent the plasma tv into life, and a reenactment of Shuichi looking upset and pushing Hiro's hand away played on the screen, "—was a big piece of meat for the hungry lions." Shuichi decided to concentrate on Tohma's collection of liquor on his mini bar at the far end of the room. What he wouldn't give for a whole bottle of Chivas to himself at that moment…

"It's over and done with though, right?" He stepped forward after nobody said anything.. Hiro looked pained as he stared at the television. "I mean, we haven't had any reporters coming up to us today, or anyone lurking around in the compounds…" He trailed off as he stared at Tohma's raised eyebrow. "Oh," he said weakly after the bulb lighted up in his head. "Your doing."

"Of course," Tohma said. "Otherwise, do you think the press will let you off this easy? You are lucky that I have enough connections and power to deter them yet. It won't be this easy the next time, and my help does _not _come willingly."

"What do you mean, it doesn't come willingly?" Hiro frowned. Shuichi felt a shaky hand on his shoulder, and stepped instinctively closer to his best friend. "We are under your label. It's your duty to protect us as long as we are still profitable to you."

"Believe me when I say this, Nakano-san. I have vested personal interest in your band as well as financial interest. Unfortunately for you, that interest extends to Shuichi's family. If that foundation is rocked, do not think for a second that I will not destroy Bad Luck."

"What does Eiri-san have to do with this?" Hiro growled, letting go of Shuichi's hand and grabbing the chair opposite Tohma's table. "He's not affected. It doesn't even have anything to do with Shuichi in the first place. It was a personal matter of mine that was blown way out of proportion."

"Good," Tohma said smoothly. "Then I don't see why I won't continue to lend my support to Bad Luck."

Hiro was blistering. The veins on his forehead were popping out, and his hands trembling. His breathing was deep, and laborious like he had just ran twelve laps around the building.

Shuichi was mostly confused. He did not get why Tohma would be so angry with Hiro, and he did not see how the scandal was connected to Yuki in any way. They were two different things. Unless of course, Shuichi was hurt by the incident, and that, in turn, had hurt Yuki. But the thought of that was equally ludicrous.

He had to calm the situation down somehow. Tohma was too sly to his liking, and Hiro too upset. "In any case, we are truly sorry," he said firmly while he bowed. "It won't happen again," he told his shoes. Their bright red tongues peeked back cheekily at him. Damn his shoes for looking so happy in a tense situation.

"I don't expect it to. The press has backed off for the time being, but only with the promise of a live press conference. I have arranged for it to be tomorrow, at 7 pm. You guys will be grilled on the specific answers to give, and how to avoid potentially disastrous ones. And please, keep a low profile during the next two or three weeks until some other celebrity has an affair." Tohma smacked his file shut, and tapped the button to turn off the television. He turned his attention back on them, and asked, with a smile on his face, "Any objections?"

Hiro opened his mouth but Tohma shut him up. "Good, he said." He gestured towards the door. "You may go now."

* * *

Politics was not Shuichi's forte. He did not understand a lot of the business jargon that Tohma was so full of –Hiro had warned him countless times they were lucky he and Yuki were lovers because Tohma would otherwise hand over shady contract deals for them to sign and Shuichi _would be stupid enough to sign them— _but sometimes he forgot that Tohma had other interests other than business when it came to Bad Luck. 

He wasn't sure what he felt about it- Tohma sliding over things and making deals simply because he was Yuki's lover. As much as Tohma said he was profit-oriented and professional, there were times when he did things simply because Yuki voiced an opinion or worse, for the simple reason that Shuichi and Yuki were together. Shuichi never wanted that to happen. He wanted Bad Luck to succeed on their own, through determination and hard work, not through having connections.

So he was a little more than irritated when they stepped out of the office, after Tohma confessed to having more than just a business interest in Bad Luck. Yuki was always in his mind in playing Bad Luck's cards. Yuki's reputation, Yuki's interests, Yuki's opinion.

Bad Luck was still second to him.

It gnawed on his mind so much that he couldn't concentrate and messed up on the second verse when they were recording for Hero.

"We _are good enough, _damn it!" He scowled into the microphone, after everyone had stopped playing and put down their instruments.

"Well, if you keep messing things up…" Hiro said slowly, as he stretched, popping his back muscles. The sly tone in his voice was what kept Shuichi from being offended.

He took a deep breath. He wouldn't let Tohma get to him. Their album was going to be so good, even Tohma would acknowledge the fact that they were better than Nittle Grasper.

"Okay, let's take it from the second verse!"

"Hai, hai. My, you are really determined today. If only you would be like this every—_oooof!_"

Shuichi gave a triumphant grin as one drum stick hit Hiro right in the face.

* * *

Yuki was in a good mood. 

He could tell from the way he was sitting on the couch, legs slightly opened and relaxed, head leaning the cushion, and a slight curve on his lips. Barely noticeable, but pretty obvious to Shuichi after living with him for four years. His right hand had a cigarette, and his left, a can of beer.

Ah, dinner.

He glanced at Shuichi's direction when he came in the house, closing the door behind him and slipping off his shoes.

"You're back," he said.

Shuichi stared at him. "I'm home," he mumbled.

Yuki patted the space beside him with the palm of his left hand, beer can still in his grip. It left a wet mark on the black leather.

Shuichi started untangling the scarf around his neck, but Yuki grunted something in disapproval so he padded obediently over to the couch and sat beside him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Yuki grabbed the ends of his scarf and pulled them so he was staring at his lips in two seconds. Then, he was tasting them.

Oh.

Yuki always had that effect on him. It was worse than alcohol. Beer couldn't even make him that lightheaded.

He leaned into the kiss, and made desperate pleading noises at the back of his throat when Yuki sucked on his lower lip and then tasted the inside of his mouth.

"Wait. What's the occasion?" He asked after they had broken apart, and Shuichi had his forehead against Yuki's shoulder, gasping for breath. He smelt nice, like a mixture of cologne and a shower. He probably had a meeting with his publishers earlier. Yuki always wore cologne on days he had to meet other human beings who were not intimidated by him.

"Do you seriously want an answer to that?" Yuki asked.

One hand reached to cup Shuichi's chin and bring it up so he could meet Yuki's gaze. "I thought you'd be the happier one here," Yuki said, narrowing his eyes slightly, but not in a mean way.

"Rough day," Shuichi mumbled. He didn't feel comfortable discussing his worries with Yuki. Particularly when it involved him.

The brows on Yuki's face creased slightly. "The reporters are still annoying you? I thought Tohma dealt with them already."

Not to mention Tohma probably reported to Yuki every step and move he made. It made him a little unsettled, at the thought of how much Yuki knew about his life outside of the house. It paled horribly in comparison with how much Shuichi knew about Yuki's business life, and his family too at that. Then again, he didn't have a spy to report to him like Yuki did.

"Yuki," he started, untangling himself from Yuki's arms. He wasn't sure how to voice it out, but he wanted a few things to be made clear, regardless or not whether Yuki would be furious at him. Yuki was important to him, but so was Bad Luck, and he refused to compromise either two loves of his life. "Maybe it would be better if we solved this ourselves."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't want Bad Luck to be successful in your terms or Tohma's or anyone else's for that matter. I want us to rise on our own terms. And a problem like this… Hiro's having a really hard time now. But I'm confident we can get through this, by ourselves."

Yuki's eyes were narrowed.

Shuichi braced himself.

"What do you mean by Bad Luck being successful on your own terms and not mine?" he said slowly. He dug his cigarette on the top of his can and placed it on the table top next to the couch. Then, he turned back to Shuichi. "If you think I had something to do with this circus show, you are wrong."

"Didn't you ask Tohma to deal with the problem for us? He was unbelievably harsh on Hiro today. You know how Tohma can be, Yuki."

"And if you think _I _had something to do with that, you are really talking to the wrong person here," Yuki snapped, getting up to leave. Shuichi grabbed at the hem of his shirt, but there was no need to because he turned around again and put his hands on his hips and snarled, "And here you were whining about how sad and how you didn't know what to do and all that bullshit."

"Look," Shuichi tried to reason, even though his lip was already trembling and his eyes were already welling up. Yup, cry baby Shuichi was at it again. "All I'm saying is Tohma's picking on Hiro for all the wrong reasons. He even blatantly said it out loud that he had personal interests in the band, and if Hiro fucked up again, there'd be hell to pay. The personal interest is you!"

Yuki opened his mouth, but closed it again after a few seconds of what Shuichi can only describe as noiceless rage. Then he pursed his mouth, and stomped to the bedroom.

"Wait, where are you going?" Shuichi yelled, scrambling off the couch and storming into the bedroom after Yuki.

Yuki did not answer. He rummaged noisily in the closet, tossing out a few jackets, and shiny t-shirts before emerging with his black coat. Shuichi rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He was so sick of this. Couldn't they talk it over?

"Wait, Yuki. Just hear me out, okay?"

Yuki brushed past him with such ferocity that Shuichi was almost knocked over. He grabbed his keys on the counter, and slipped his feet into his Dunhill leather shoes, and turned the door knob.

Shuichi stared numbly from the hall.

Yuki paused, and then he turned so slightly that Shuichi could only see the profile of his nose. "Look, Tohma is a fuckup at times, Shuichi. And all I asked him to deal with was the press because they were hounding you guys. But if you believe I had something to do with him having issues with _your boyfriend—" _he said that part pretty sarcastically, Shuichi noted with a dull ache in his stomach later, "—then you obviously still have other issues to deal with."

"Wait. What the heck are you saying?" His heart was beating furiously under his chest. Everything from Yuki's mouth sounded like a threat. Coupled with the fear was the beginning of the throbbings of guilt. Yuki didn't have anything to do with what Tohma threatened Hiro with earlier that day.

"I don't know. I'm dealing with enough bullshit as it is. And here I thought I solved one. I'm sorry I made things so much harder for you," he said snidely. He put on his coat. Shuichi noticed with a little triumph that it wasn't ironed and there was creases everywhere. They probably fooled around in that jacket and Yuki probably neglected to send it to the cleaners. He never left things unironed.

Hah. Let Yuki wear that thing soaked with bodily fluids and sweat.

He tossed his hands up in the air, half in resignation, and the other in frustration. "I just don't want Bad Luck to be just another lucky band with the right connections!"

Yuki whipped around. "Well, seeing I fucked things up for you and your lovely little boyfriend, I am going out."

"Where are you going?!"

"Oh, I'm sure plenty of other women want my presence, and would be appreciative of my help." Yuki smiled at him.

Oh, that was low. Yuki was a mean idiot. Shuichi upped his chin in defiance even though his throat closed up and it became hard to talk. "Go right ahead," he said. "Have fun. Make sure the press sees you so this scandal becomes even more blown out of proportion."

"And by the way," he added spitefully. "Your jacket has _my _cum on it."

The look on Yuki's face was nothing short of spectacular. He shrugged off his coat, and threw it so it landed squarely on top of Shuichi's head.

"I'll made sure the media sees me," he said. He stepped out of the door and slammed it. The paintings trembled on their hooks on the walls, and Shuichi jumped so badly goosebumps traveled across his skin. The cat mewed quietly at her sleeping place by the sliding door to the balcony.

Great. Just great. His day was getting better and better.

He shouldn't have told Yuki about the jacket.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the long wait. 13 weeks of school Well, things are looking up I suppose. Three whole months of summer holidays (Yes, I'm aware that some of you are experiencing autumn but the world doesn't revolve around you) soon, so I'll make up for it. Feedback most welcome and I hope you enjoyed this chapter ;) 


	9. Chapter 9

I lie when I tell you I know what I'm talking about. And I almost always lie when I say I'm nearly there. This thing is far from finished -ashamed- I am going to finish this fic even if it kills me, and when I look back, it will be tears of joy, not of endless hours of omygodiwannakillmyselfGAHHHHH. Thanks for being on the ride with me so far, and THANK YOU for your patience.

* * *

When Shuichi was two years into his relationship with Yuki, they had their first big fat fight after the New York incident. It wasn't the usual fight, meaning Shuichi left home for three days and then Yuki persuaded him to come back again and they made up and all was well, but it was the sort of fight that left Shuichi too distraught to speak, eat, least of all sing, and Yuki had to be admitted to the hospital for over exhaustion and distress; Mika had found him slumped in the apartment over his table, blood soaking up his shirt. 

He didn't even know what had been the subject of their argument, but he remembered all too well the amount of scary pills Yuki had to take, and the many nightmares that awoken the both of them up well into the aftermath. He remembered that his voice took a full two months to recover and how long it had taken for him to smile again.

If there was one advantage to the fight, it was that Shuichi knew that it was the benchmark of their relationship, the bar where high jumpers had to scale in order to win. He knew that whatever it was, they were fine as long as nothing topped _that_ argument.. Nobody would vomit blood, nobody would require antidepressants and most of all, nobody would leave.

So he did not freak out when Yuki Eiri slammed the door on him and threaten to spend the night with a pretty girl –well, he was sure Yuki would not do that but if he did, then Shuichi would deal with it in the morning, and not a moment before—he merely whistled and tried to cajole the cat into playing with him, who by the way, wasn't the least bit interested. She stretched out her paws and yawned in response to his offending hands, and went back to sleep.

The phone rang at three in the morning, and Shuichi had fallen asleep by then, totally not waiting for Yuki on the carpet by the couch and facing the door. He grinned triumphantly and waited till the fifth ring before he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey," said a voice which sounded like Yuki, but one which Shuichi would never mistake for Yuki.

"Hey, Tatsuha," Shuichi answered, just a little disappointed. Just a little.

"Shuichi." Tatsuha sounded surprised, and a little hushed. "Uh, is Yuki there?"

"No. Didn't you call his cell?"

"I couldn't get him," Tatsuha said.

That's because he probably shut off his phone, Shuichi thought wryly. "Yeah, he's not back yet. Maybe you can try tomorrow." When he's sober and mellow and totally not in a pissy mood. When Tatsuha was silent –very very uncharacteristic of him, usually he would pepper their conversations with dirty jokes—Shuichi asked curiously, "Why, what's up? Anything you want me to pass to him when he gets home?"

There was nervous laughter at the other end of the line. "Ah, nothing you can help me with, midget," Tatsuha said obnoxiously, quelling any ounce of concern Shuichi had for him a second ago.

"Hey!" Shuichi gripped the phone tightly with his fingers. "I've grown an inch since last year, all right?"

Tatsuha laughed again. Shuichi wanted to sock him. They were all arrogant bastards, all three of them. "Right," Tatsuha drawled.

"Seriously," Shuichi rolled his eyes. "He'll be back any minute," he lied. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"Ah, okay." A long pause. "Just tell him that I'm going to run the temple okay? And ask him not to butt his nose where it doesn't belong. It's my decision to make, not his."

When Shuichi was silent, Tatusha barked into the phone. "Oi, midget, are you listening to me?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good. I got to go now. So remember to tell aniki okay? Bye." –Click-

* * *

It gnawed on his insides for the whole day. It festered in his stomach, and grew and grew until he was certain it held a shadow over him. In his mind were all these…questions he didn't have answers to, all the confusion he was feeling regarding the _secret, _and why was it supposed to be kept from him. They spoke to him the whole day, the fears and the questions, like a bee that was trapped in the house and didn't know how to get out so it kept buzzing and buzzing, and buzzing. 

"Shuichi are you listening to me!" K-san barked from across the table, wielding a chopstick dangerously.

Hiro laughed, gulping down a maguro sushi. "Probably had some last night," he mumbled through his food. Nobody blinked. They were all used to kissing and telling within the band.

It shouldn't be a big deal, Tatsuha running the temple, right? Except that it _was _because Yuki didn't want him to know. He thought about it, and came up with a few possible scenarios but each sounded sillier than the next.

"Yarrrrrgggh!" He threw his arms up in frustration. The whole band stopped, food in their mouths and cups in hands, to look up at him. The rest of their contingent who occupied the other two tables in the sushi-ya also stopped to stare at Shuichi who was pulling his hair into knots.

Suguru rolled his eyes, and stood up. "Gonna go get more food," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely and pushed his chair away.

"Get me more tamago," one of the sound engineers called out from the second table. Kouchi, that was his name. He pulled a face when Suguru told him to get his own.

"I don't get it," Shuichi wailed, nuzzling his face into the shoulder of the person nearest to him –Sakano was the unlucky victim. He patted his shoulder nervously and asked Shuichi whether he was okay.

"I don't get it!" Shuichi said again, peering helplessly at Hiro sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Why not?" Hiro humoured him, drinking sake from his cup. He burped a few times, patting his belly happily.

"Why is it such a big deal? It's just the temple!" Seriously, it was. He didn't get it. He wanted so badly to ask Yuki when he came home that morning, sober and mellowed from what must have been a drinking binge. But they weren't on speaking terms, and Yuki was unapproachable when he had a hangover, which meant no making up. Maybe he would have forgotten the fight by the time Shuichi clocked out later that night. He certainly did not mention it when he let himself into the house. Plus he had woken Shuichi up to go to work too, and that was a good sign, although maybe he was just a little rough was he kicked him in the ribs.

"You should just ask him outright Shuichi. Seriously." When someone asked Hiro what was wrong with Shuichi, he shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno, I'm just going along. It's Shuichi." As if that explained everything. But it must have, because there was a look of understanding on Daisuke's face, and he went back to his food.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Shuichi asked himself hesitantly.

"Yup," Hiro replied, nodding. "Ask him tonight, after you get back from the conference."

"What conference?" he asked dumbly, and was rewarded with a sputtering of expletives from the man two seats away from him.

"I'm going to kill him," K-san growled dangerously while others tried to placate him. "The press conference, you dumbass!"

When Shuichi remained clueless three seconds later, Hiro sighed very heavily and explained as patiently as he could. "I fucked up. Press conference to explain my fucking up? To clean up the mess I made? Remember?"

"Oh!" He had forgotten about it. He grinned sheepishly at Hiro.

"Listen up," K-san snapped. "Orders from the top. Ayaka and Hiro parted amicably. He wishes her well. Slight misunderstanding between the two of you-" Hiro and Shuichi exchanged glances at this point. He flushed slightly in embarrassment and of guilt. _Why do I always have to be your lifejacket?_ Shuichi glanced away, tuning back in to what K was talking about "—and to take their minds off this little tiff, we would have an announcement to make."

"What announcement?" Suguru asked, having returned to the table with a big wooden board laden with sushi.

"The release date of Bad Luck's latest album," K-san finished calmly.

"But that's…months away," Shuichi wondered out loud.

"Not anymore."

"WHAT?" Twenty voices piped up in unison, all eyes turning to the manager.

Shuichi's cry was louder than everyone else's. They were already behind schedule, and K-san wanted to bump up their release date? What the hell is that man on?

"Just when do you plan on it being released?" Kouchi spoke up tentatively, echoing the questions of the many voices whispering to each other.

"Three months from now," K-san said calmly, promptly ignoring the pandemonium that broke out after that.

"You can't…that's too soon!"

"We are already behind!"

"What the hell, we don't even have enough selection of songs to go into post production."

"We're already working overtime for this album."

Someone said, "We can't do it if Shuichi doesn't get his act moving." Two others agreed with him, but when Shuichi whipped around indignantly to see the culprit, he was faced with seven people pointedly not looking at him.

"He will get his act done," K said firmly, and he looked at Shuichi in the eye as he said it.

"Even so," Hiro voiced out worriedly. "Three months is too short. We don't have enough songs."

"We do. NG has already bought the rights to several wonderful songs written by a few famous names in the industry. All you have to do is—"

Shuichi slammed his fist on the table. "I won't sing another person's songs," he said quietly. The attention switched to him. He tried not to cower at nineteen scrutinizing gazes. Strange. He could take on a million fans gazing adoringly at him but not his team. Perhaps it was the fact that nobody treated him as Shuichi the singer, he thought darkly, as opposed to Shuichi the midget.

K smiled at him grimly. "Alas, Shuichi, that is not your choice to make at this moment."

"I won't. And it's final." He sat back down, having stood up so suddenly a few

minutes before at K's declaration. He stared at his plate, his sushi untouched. He didn't feel hungry anymore.

"Maa…Shuichi," Sakano soothed, putting a shaky hand on his shoulder. "Three months is certainly too short to write enough songs. Besides, the songs that NG has the rights to, they will be big hits."

"No," he answered petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But I thought Shuichi-san sang a song Yuki Eiri wrote before, a few years back," some rookie had the nerve to say.

"That's different, I sleep with him," Shuichi snapped.

"Is the three months deadline non-negotiable?" Suguru piped up, filling the silence that Shuichi had caused.

"Non-negotiable," K-san confirmed.

"We don't have a choice then." Suguru's voice was business-like and he too sat back down.

"Don't even think about it," Shuichi warned Suguru. He couldn't. They couldn't. Singing was his responsibility. And singing the songs that he himself wrote was his own damn responsibility. Nobody could take it away from him.

Suguru sighed, gearing himself for the battle he was about to start. "Three months, Shuichi. We don't have time. Look at the facts here. You are already behind. Three months of toiling and what have you got? Ten songs. That's too little and you know it."

"I'll give you another ten songs by the end of this week."

"No you won't. Something will come up. You will have another fight, Yuki will disrupt your performance. It's always like this, Shuichi. You won't be able to write another ten songs by this week."

Murmurs of agreement rose around them. Shuichi felt sick. The familiar dread in his stomach grew. He looked to Hiro for support. "Hiro?" He would support him. They were in this together. Music was their blood. As long as he had Hiro for support, he could get past it.

"Suguru's right, Shuichi," Hiro said quietly.

He didn't have the time to process what it meant. But his hand which was holding the sake cup automatically raised itself.

"Shuichi," K-san said his name slowly and clearly, pronouncing every syllable. "This is not a choice. It's not written in Bad Luck's contract that they have the rights to all their songs. Meaning you do as the company says. NG has been kind enough to let you exercise your ability as song-writer all this while but time is short now and you don't have a choice."

"I'll give you another ten songs by the end of this week," Shuichi said firmly, almost begging now.

K-san sighed. "You always say that, and you always go back on your word. We don't have anymore time to spare and—"

"One week," Shuichi interjected. "Then I'll sing the songs that other people wrote."

Another round of expletives by K-san was enough to send the sushi master wincing, and he came over skittishly to the table and asked them nervously, albeit politely, to shut up because they were frightening his customers away. They were. Any potential customer who walked into the sushi-ya was immediately terrified by the yakuza-like confrontation and turned their heels to walk the other way, probably to the rival sushi-ya just opposite the road. The master was crying with frustration by the time his fifteenth customer hurried out of the restaurant, a harassed look on her face.

"How about this, K-san," Sakano proposed, inserting a calmer, much needed tone into the conversation. "We go ahead with the schedule, meaning we prep the band for songs that we have the rights to. In the meantime, Shuichi should concentrate on writing his songs whenever there is a break. And if he can come up with the extra ten by the end of the week like he promised to and if the songs meet the criteria, then we will only use his songs, and no one else's."

Another murmur of approval went round the table. Shuichi thought he heard Hiro say, "That's a good proposal, why didn't I think of that?" The feeling of something-or-other popped up again, and he didn't know just what that was but he felt sick yet again, and the words '_why do I always have to be your lifejacket' _popped to his mind like a rocket so he resolutely shoved them into the furthest corners of his thoughts where didn't need to deal with them until he absolutely must. He focused on the rest of the people instead.

"That's a better idea," K-san said slowly. He looked over at Shuichi and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I could deal with that," he agreed grudgingly. He would have been a lot more spirited and determined if only the rest of his team didn't look so smug and sure that he would not be able to keep his promise.

"Ok!" K pumped his fist into the air, looking again like the manager everyone was used to. "Let's go then. Chop chop. Kouichi get the check."

"Hai…"

By the time lunch time was over, everyone's spirit had left their bodies. There wasn't much to look forward to, merely hours and hours of overtime and a rising number of cigarette sticks. They trudged out of the sushi-ya one by one, each trying to prop his comrade up by muttering words of encouragement, but seriously, who were they kidding? They knew what lay ahead.

Shuichi was the last to leave. He hung around in the restaurant until he saw Hiro pile into the first van along with Suguru, K and the temp drummer. Then he asked politely for a pen and paper from Sakano who was waiting for him by the door of the second van.

He had enough fodder to write about, he thought grimly as he pushed his way to the very back of the vehicle.

By the time the van reached the studios of NG, he already had one song in the pocket.

One down, nine to go.

* * *

When Hiro finally cornered him in the bathroom, Shuichi had nowhere to run. He'd been clever, sticking himself to the couch in the crowded production room all afternoon. There was no way Hiro could confront him there. It was not to say he didn't try. He had sat down next to Shuichi when everybody else was busy with pressing buttons and frowning at computer screens and chewing pens. But he was smart, he had shrieked loudly at the exact moment Hiro opened his mouth, and launched into a lengthy diatribe about how he would never be able to finish his songs and bolted out of the room. As usual, nobody blinked. It provided the perfect opportunity for him to escape though. 

After that, he secluded himself on the rooftop, or more specifically, behind a huge plant on the rooftop. There he found peace, and even though Hiro came up a few times to look for him, the huge leaves did a wonderful job of camouflaging him. Alas, nature had other intentions.

He would not even show his face if he did not need to pee that badly. At first, he tried the bathroom on the third floor, but as luck would have it, it was closed for maintenance. The one on the second floor had four occupied cubicles and one which wouldn't close properly. He figured, what were the chances he and Hiro needed to pee at the same time?

The chances were pretty damn big, he scowled to himself as Hiro shoved him up against the bathroom wall. "There you are," he drawled slowly, before letting Shuichi down. He breathed a sigh of relief as his feet touched ground again. Hiro had a sick sense of humour.

"How long are you going to keep avoiding me?" Hiro asked, when Shuichi tried to wash his hands. Tried, because Hiro took his wrists and pulled them so hard he couldn't move them.

"I'm not avoiding you," Shuichi denied, looking for a way out. He peered past Hiro's shoulder but he realized what Shuichi was doing because he stepped into his field of vision and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Don't even think about it."

Shuichi sighed then, and gave up trying to bail. "I'm not avoiding you," he said again, this time, with a smile that rivaled a thousand suns.

Hiro ignored him. "Shuichi, I'm not sorry for my opinion this afternoon. It still stands. But I am sorry I was such a lousy friend."

In any other circumstances, he would have understood. Hiro was the logical half of the both of them. In any other circumstances, he would even agree with Hiro, in the end anyway. But he was tired, close to hyperventilating, Yuki had things he didn't want him to know, he didn't want Hiro to think of him as useless, even he himself thought his chances of finishing the songs were bleak and most of all, he really didn't want to sing a song somebody else wrote. He did not need Hiro to tell him which was the right choice at that exact moment; he would have had to come to terms with it sooner or later. What he needed was for Hiro to support him, because really, he didn't think he could do it by himself. Even his best friend thought he couldn't do it, so what hope did he have left in him?

Deep breaths, deep breaths, he kept telling himself, because he felt something rise up inside of him, like a crest of a wave, and he had to keep it down. Deep breaths.

When the moment passed, and Shuichi had almost forgotten Hiro was still standing there, he looked up, and saw Hiro brace himself for…something. An argument, an explosion, pummeling of fists, truckloads of tears, screaming. Standard procedure.

"I'm fine," he said instead, and watched Hiro's eyes widen in shock. "It's okay, really."

"Shuichi, I—" The look on Hiro's face was almost unbearable; distress, worry and then fear because it was uncharted territory, this was something he had never had to deal with before. But Shuichi pushed past the wave again, plastered the biggest, most genki smile he had onto his face –all the while chanting 'deep breaths, deep breaths' in his mind—and gripped the sweater he had on. He thought he might have left marks on Hiro's skin because his fist had been burrowed so tightly into it.

"I'm fine."

When he walked out of the bathroom, Hiro was still standing there.

The conversation had been hollow after that. He returned to the studio, sat in his couch and wrote diligently until it was time to get ready for the conference. He laughed and played along when Suguru stole the drummer's sticks and refused to return them. Only Hiro had sat in one corner, a cigarette in his mouth, a thin smile ready on his lips whenever someone happened to look in his direction.

Something had changed. Shuichi wasn't sure what it was but he thought that they might have just broken up.


End file.
